


The Queen's Tower

by super_heroine_addict



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-05-12 15:49:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19232224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super_heroine_addict/pseuds/super_heroine_addict
Summary: I’ve been imprisoned for six thousand, three hundred, and twenty-six days’Nikolette's the daughter of a king and traitor, and she's been a prisoner her whole life. Ryder is the only hunter in the land who can navigate the perils of the Dark Forest. When circumstances force them together, they'll have to work together to survive a world neither of them really know.





	1. Nikolette I/ Ryder I

**_Nikolette_ **

‘ _ I’ve been imprisoned for six thousand, three hundred, and twenty-six days _ ’ I thought to myself as I used a bit of metal from broken fire poker to scratch a tally in the wall. I could tell the passage of days only from seeing the sun rise and set from the East and West windows of the tower I’d been kept since the day I was born. I took another look at the wall completely covered in etch marks, before letting the swath of purple fabric Isabelle smuggled in to decorate the wall fall, concealing the marks. Isabelle and Markus didn’t like the tallies. They thought it made me overly dwell on my captivity. I once told them that there wasn’t a lot else to dwell on. But I hid them anyway. I supposed if they made me dwell on my imprisonment, they certainly reminded my guardians of their failure to free me.

 

As the sun continued to rise, I moved around my little room, humming to myself as I cleaned. The king had thrown another party last night. I knew because I had watched people arriving in dozens of carriages, and Isabelle delivered me a plate of roasted boar, and the music was so loud I could hear it even high above them. Their tune was so lively and beautiful, even as I hummed it now I felt as if some of the life of the party filled my room. I swayed a little as I walked, dancing just the tiniest bit while I picked up my things preparing for the day.

 

Isabelle arrived first, like always. She lifted the hatch in the floor with one hand before gently lowering it, then steadied herself on the floor as she finished climbing the ladder, all while holding my breakfast on a tray in the other hand. Years of practice had let her perfect the climb.

 

“Morning my dear.” She said brightly.

 

“Good morning, Isabelle. Anything interesting happen downstairs?” I answer as I finished making my bed.

 

“Oh, not since yesterday. Everybody’s still hungover from the drinking last night.”

 

“What was the party for?”

 

“It was His Highness’ birthday, I believe.” Isabelle says dismissively as she sets the tray on the table. Before I can stop myself, my lips smack in recognition. Still I can’t help but ask-

“Which one?”

 

“The third or fourth, I don’t quite remember.” Isabelle’s tone made it very clear she didn’t want to discuss the cause of celebration any further. I couldn’t blame her. Discussing my brothers always made both of us touchy. 

 

Instead I asked her to tell me about the details of the party. I sat and ate, enraptured as I listened to her describe everything from the entertainment to the food to the decorations, in incredible detail only someone who had helped prepare the night could know. As she spoke, I tried to picture it all my head, placing every candle and musician and streamer in my imaginary ballroom. 

 

This is how Markus found us when he arrives later. He entered through the same trapdoor as Isabelle, and accomplished the same tricky maneuver with practiced ease. In his hands however, were books.

 

“Isabelle, how many times must I ask you not to fill her head with this gossip? She has no need for such frivolities.” Markus was what Isabelle described as ‘getting on in years’, which I took as code for being old enough to be wise but still not old enough to lose his intimidating edge. He was tall and lean, with gray hair speckled with black and skin wrinkled by too many years of worry. Once he had been a commander in the king’s army. But now he’s simply my tutor.

 

Compared to him, Isabelle is his exact opposite. She’s shorter even than me, after my last growth spurt. Her umber-colored skin glowed; she exuberated a youthful vibrancy at all times. She was only eight years my elder though, but still I’d think looking after me for the last nine years should have aged her some. Isabelle had always been a maid in the castle’s employ, even before she became my nurse. She worked to support aging parents, which is why she held this job. They paid her three times as much as other maids to ensure her secrecy.

 

“And I suppose those sums and histories you teach her are so much more relevant?” She asked, taking one of the books from his arms and waving it around to make her point. He snatched it back and placed it on the other end of the table. 

 

“Every little girl should be educated, regardless of circumstances.” He replied. I rolled my eyes, both at being referred to as a little girl and the argument. They had it on a bi-weekly basis. Though as nothing else with me ever changed, I supposed some conversations needed repeating.

 

“Now, Your Highness, did you finish your readings from yesterday?” Markus asked me. He insists on calling me by the title, though no one else does or ever has. 

 

“Of course Markus. It’s not like I had anywhere else to be.” I got up and moved from one end of the table to the other. From the corner of my eye, I saw both him and Isabelle cringed slightly at my joke. Well, humor never was one of the abilities that practice made perfect. 

 

Markus cleared his throat and began a lecture on Ataria’s second civil war, I grabbed my quill and notebook and take notes, and Isabelle bustled about, cleaning up my breakfast, emptying my chamber pot, and doing other chores around the room. I settled in for the peaceful morning routine, as ingrained in me as the sun-burst birthmark on the back of my hand.

* * *

 

**_Ryder_ **

The woods moved quietly today, and Ryder moved in tandem with them. His eyes stayed focused on his target, not letting his concentration break for even a minute. He drew back his arrow, took a moment to steady his aim, and released.

 

_ THWACK. _ The arrow struck the doe with a satisfying resonance. It was a clean kill too; instantly dead, the deer fell in a heap and the others of the herd quickly cleared out. Ryder smiled to himself. Slinging the bow across his back, he went to collect his kill.

 

He’d been out since dawn, reveling in the forest air and quiet peace. Everything always felt so cramped in the town; like no matter where he was, outside, in the tavern, or even his private attic apartment; he was confined along with all the people and the noise. It was stifling and he had no great love for it, but it was the only way to earn a living. 

 

The town was all but dead when he arrived back an hour later,even though the sun had risen high in the sky, and he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. The damn king’s party had lasted until nearly first light the night before; he’d heard the revelers from his apartment. The king was lousy with drink and wasteful with money, which is how the even the commoners could find themselves piss-drunk and jolly whenever he threw one of his elaborate banquets. As far as Ryder was concerned, it was a poor attempt at distraction. Just looking around the town, he could see the poverty surrounding them. Buildings that looked a few good knocks from collapsing like cards, streets that needed repairing, and everywhere he looked, families starving and without enough coin to pay the rents. No one else seemed to mind how much good money was spent on the extravagances though, not when they got free liquor out of it.

 

Margrit was up and preparing the day’s food when he returned to the Sunstar’s Inn. Her face lit up when she saw the deer, and he could almost see the calculations running through her head as she figured how many servings she could make from it and how much money in turn she would get from it. 

 

He took the kill to the back courtyard to skin and prepare it to be cooked. By the time he was done and returned inside,Magrit had a breakfast prepared for him.

 

“You’re too good for me, Maggie.” he said with a smile.

 

“Oh hush.” She shooed him away. “You more than earn your keep around here. Any more kills this month and I’ll have actually pay you rather than take it out of your rent.”

 

“I couldn’t take your money.” he told her honestly. Magrit and her husband worked hard to keep the inn running. What little rent he ended up paying always helped, but they’d repeatedly refused to allow him to pay his rent in full if he brought back game he hunted for them to serve. It certainly helped him. Game was easier to come by then work. 

 

Ryder took his breakfast and settled into a table in the corner where he could overlook the rest of the room. As the hour drew on, more people began to stumble into the dining room in search of breakfast. Soon enough the mumbled conversations and scent of porridge filled the room. The crowded air convinced him to leave; he planned to start crushing and mixing some of the herbs he’d gathered in the woods to be prepared into remedies, a decent side-business of his. He was just making his way to leave when a distressed messenger hurried through the inn’s door. 

 

“Where is the hunter called Ryder?” he called out to Magrit. Every eye in the room turned towards Ryder, who turned to approach the man. 

 

“I’m Ryder Hunter.”

 

“One of Lord Leighton’s horses snapped it’s lead and ran off into the forest. He’s offered 100 pieces to anyone who can bring it back, but they say you’re the only one who can navigate the Dark Woods.”

 

Ryder thought it was a rather tidy sum for retrieving a horse, but what did he care. The town knew well the only way to find something in that part of the forest, and bring it back in one piece, was to enlist his services. Ryder grinned. This would be far more interesting a day than he’d hoped. He clapped the man on the shoulder. “Take me to the stables, and I’ll pick up the trail from there.

  
  



	2. Nikolette II/Ryder II

**_Nikolette_ **

“Remember Your Highness, Ataria’s main exports are?” Markus asked. I sat hunched over my notebook, working on my lettering. Another useless skill, but I liked how the letters look drawn across the paper, all curly and connected. Multi-tasking is one of Markus’ favorite skills to cultivate, so while I wrote he was quizzing me on topics we covered earlier, forcing it to stick in my head.

 

“Salt, grain, and cotton.” I answered.

 

“Very good. And why are these services valuable?”

 

“Salt is a preservative, cotton makes clothing, and grain is used in production of alcohol.”

 

“Where do we get each?”

 

“We harvest salt from the salt mines beneath the mountains of the Eastern border, half the Northern grassland are fields and farms that grow and harvest various types of grain, and cotton is grown in the West.”

 

“And to the South?”

 

I think for a moment, sit up and put my pen down in favor of fidgeting with my fingers. “You told me there was nothing to the South but the Dark Forest?”

 

“The Forest of Atar.” Markus corrects me.

 

“Not that it matters. The Dark Forest of Atar will chew you up and spit you out less you shot it respect and call it by it’s true name.” Isabelle advised from her seat by the window, where she sat mending a pair of my leggings. 

 

“That’s superstitious nonsense, and you know it.” Markus said.

 

“What is the Forest of Atar’s proper name?” I asked curiously.

 

“No one knows, it was lost years ago.” Isabelle answered.

 

“Is it true that no one can survive the Dark Forest?” I pressed. 

 

“Don’t be silly, of course it’s not.” said Markus.

 

“But Isabelle says no one can navigate it, and people get lost in it all the time.”

 

“And don’t forget the hundreds of deadly creatures trying to kill you.” Isabelle chimed in.

 

“I’ve told you not to fill her head with stories!” Markus ordered sharply. We both fall silent. Markus sighed.

 

“Forgive me, Your Highness, Isabelle. I simply have too much on my mind.” Markus turned away. His gaze flickers away from us, out the window. I leaned forward, trying to see what he saw. I’m at the wrong angle, but I know the view by heart. It looks out to the town, and further in the distance you can see the Dark Forest. The nightmare that keeps children in their beds at night has never been more to me than a centimeter of dark green smudged across the horizon. 

 

“I’m afraid I must wrap your lessons up early, Princess. There are a few urgent matters I must attend to.” Markus says, and gathers his things. He leaves the books for me to read later. “Finish your composition, I’ll be checking on it tomorrow.”

 

“Yes Markus.” I answer dutifully. He exits down the trapdoor quickly. Once he’s gone, Isabelle sighs and puts down the leggings. She sits there for a minute.

 

“Everything alright, Izzy?” I ask. 

 

“Everything’s fine, Letty.” Isabelle says, but she sounded unsure.

 

Not completely believing her, I picked up my pen and returned to my composition notes. There’s no clock in my tower; by estimate we sat there another half hour or so before a noise outside caught my attention. Before Isabelle could protest I rose and walked to the window. 

 

“Not too close, dear.” Isabelle warned me, but I ignore her in favor of peeking out a little to see the courtyard far, far below me. There was a flurry of people there, gathered around what at first appeared to bundles of blue and green attempting to tackle each other to the ground. Around them, the patterns of brightly dyed garments contrasting with simpler, muted browns and whites tells me both nobles and commoners had gathered to watch the fistfight, but neither would intervene on either prince’s behalf. I couldn’t suppress a sardonic chuckle when I recognize the colored fighters. 

 

“Prince Artur and Prince Henrik are at it again.” Isabelle commented from behind my shoulder where she’s joined me. 

 

“Do they really hate each other?” I question her. Isabelle sighs. 

 

“Who knows. There’s too many princes in this castle, and nothing for them to do besides grow to resent one another.”

 

It occured to me how odd it is that I should know so little about men who are technically my brothers. I’ve never spoken a word to Artur or Henrik, or the other four princes. Watching them come and go from my tower is the closest to a relationship I’ve ever had with them. I wonder if they even know I exist. 

 

The fight only goes on a bit longer. A shout interrupts first, followed by the guards. The crowd parts to let them through, and some of the wiser ones disperse. Behind the guards came a figure cloaked red garments so dark they look like dried blood. I shuddered. My oldest brother, Corbin. 

 

When the people below see him, those who hadn’t already wisely turn to leave. I don’t blame them. Even stuck in this tower, I’ve heard of some of the terrible things he’s done when provoked. I didn’t have a lot of opinions of the princes; I had no reason to. But when it came to him I found myself agreeing with Isabelle. Too much power and not enough to do with it.

 

I couldn’t hear what happened next. Corbin was saying something to Artur and Henrik, while they were restrained by the guards. No one looked very happy. Eventually, on a signal from Corbin the guards released the other two, and the younger princes, with a final glare, huffed away in opposite directions. I was almost sad. It was the most interesting thing to happen all week. I watch another moment, first Artur, then Henrik, then Corbin, who has turned to reenter the castle. As soon as my gaze falls on him, he hesitates, and turns around again. Isabelle gasps and pulls me away, right in time, before he looks up at my tower. I knock painfully into the table as I stumble backwards. 

 

“Ouch.” I rub at my bruised hip.

 

“This is why I tell you to keep away from the windows.” Isabelle scolds me harshly. Her expression, normally so easy-going and kind, was tensed in a cross of anger and fear.

 

“I’m sorry.” I say.

 

“No one can see you up here, Nikolette. Do you understand? If you’re seen, the King can claim you’ve broken his law and put you to death!” She continues.

 

“I know, I’m sorry!” I tell her. Isabelle rarely gets angry, and I can’t meet her gaze. Mine flicks out the window again. Following it, Isabelle seethed in anger, and grabs the drapes, pulling them shut. To emphasize her point, she walks around the tower, pulling each of the four drapes closed.

 

“Don’t know why we risk opening these.” she mutters as she stalked past me. Once the last is closed, the room is significantly darker.

 

“Isabelle, please, I’m sorry.” I try and assuage her. She waves me off. 

 

“I need to go downstairs, to be sure no one saw you.” she gathers up my breakfast tray and her own work. I sighed in defeat, knowing I’ll spend the next week in this dark hellhole. “I’ll be back by 8 bells to draw your bath.” She says this like it hasn’t been my daily routine all my life

 

“Can I least light a lantern?”

 

“No.”

 

“But Markus said-”

 

“Do you have any idea what Markus would say if he knew you’d almost been seen?” Isabelle snaps. I retreat. Trying not to pout, I walk to my bed, a low frame and thin mattress and more blankets then you could believe, and drop into it. Isabelle exists the trap door without another word. I listen for the telltale pater of feet on the ladder, and then footsteps trailing off to wherever the tower leads to. She’s gone in moments.

 

I stay where I am, miserably hunched on my bed for the next few hours until the sun fades. When there’s no trace of the setting sun’s red light from the cracks beneath the curtain, I risk rising and slowly pull back the curtain on the window that looks to the south. Everything is dark, except for the stars in the sky. I smile sadly at my nightly companions. Markus had taught me their names years ago, and for years I’d look to find each one in the sky, more constants in my life of routine. Beneath me, the castle is silent and dark. Another day has gone by, just the same as the last six thousand or so. Deciding to risk it, I pull back the curtains a little further and sit on the window ledge, taking a rare chance to breathe the fresh air. Isabelle would be furious if she found out, but I didn’t care.  I gaze at the spread of courtyard below me and city beyond its walls, and even further to the dense Dark Woods that looked black in the night, and dream of what it would be like to roam freely through it all. The absurdity of the dream hangs over me for the millionth time. I know the truth of it- I will never be free of the prison my father stuck me in. Still, as I sit and wonder and dream, I remind myself not to lose hope. I made a promise years ago, to myself. I may be kept captive in this place, but I refuse to be it’s prisoner. 

* * *

**_Ryder_ **

 

There was a girl hanging out of the Queen’s Tower.

 

At first Ryder had thought he was seeing things, had imbibed too freely in the spirits they served at dinner that night. Lord Leighton had been overly grateful for the return of his horse, and his friend and companion, the Prince Amir, the second in line, had insisted Ryder stay for the evening meal. The nobleman, prince, and companions sat at their own table in the large dining hall, and the young nobles were apparently very entertained by the life of a lone hunter. Not wanting to stay and perform for the prince, but not wanting to insult anybody either, Ryder had agreed, and regaled them with the story of tracking the horse and avoiding the dangers of the Dark Woods. In return, they were generous in both praise and liquor. But Ryder had paced himself, with no intention of becoming the same drunken idiot this castle often produced, and he was sure he had not imagined her. 

 

His next thought was that he’d seen a faerie spirit, like the ones his Da said once ruled all of nature in the land before humans. They would sometimes come and play tricks on human eyes, taking the shapes of old men or beautiful women to garner sympathy. The girl was too far away to see clearly, besides the shape of her torso and her long hair swishing out the window. Ryder didn’t know if he believed in faeries like his Da, but he wasn’t sure what one would be doing all alone in a tower, gazing at moonlight. 

 

“Ryder!” A voice called from behind him. Ryder turned to see two guards, dressed in the palace uniform, coming towards them. One of them stumbled over something on the ground, and it fell to the other to catch his more inebriated friend.  “There you old, you sly fox. Leaving so soon?”

 

“Talon, Finnick, good to see you my friends.” Ryder called. He known Talon and Finnick for years, even before they’d enlisted in the guard. They normally came to the Sunstar on their nights off, but upon his arrival elected to stay instead. 

 

“What are you staring up? All the good scandals are happening inside.” Talon asked.

 

“I’m just wondering who that is up on the Queen’s Tower.” Ryder gestured. The two guards glanced, then stared at him funny.

 

“Ain’t nobody there Ryder.” Finnick said.

 

“No I saw her she was just-” but as Ryder turned, he saw the girl he’d seen had indeed disappeared from view. “She was there just a second ago, leaning out the window.”

 

Finn barked a laugh and Talon rolled his eyes, pushing the drunken man away to support himself. He stepped forward to join Ryder, clapping him on the shoulder. “You probably just imagined it my friend. Nobody has been allowed into the Queen’s Tower for years, not since the old queen died. It’s all bored up and abandoned.”

 

“Maybe he saw Old Shany’s ghost.” Finnick called out. Ryder looked at Talon questioningly.

 

“Some people say Queen Shanice; that was the king’s second wife; some think she haunts the tower. No one’s been allowed in since she died. But some people swear they’ve heard sounds coming from there, or seen quick flashes of her darting from the window. Of course nobody will say anything, not since the King forbade anyone to speak of her. But you know, people whisper.” Talon explained.

 

Ryder shook his head. “This wasn’t a quick glimpse Talon. I saw a girl, far too young to be this dead queen, just sitting there.” But Talon shook his head too. 

 

“You’ve had a long day Ryder. Come, help me get Finnick to bed and we’ll find some more to eat you and I. Whatever you saw it’s gone now, and we’ve far too many problems to focus on imaginary maidens hanging from tower windows.”

 

Slowly, Ryder allowed himself to be pulled along with Talon, occasionally glancing back at the tower. But there was no movement or light or sign of life in the tower, and Ryder wondered if he really had imagined it.

  
  



	3. Nikolette III/Ryder III

**_Nikolette_ **

 

I spent the next day alone. And the next one. I finished all the books I had with me and reread a few. I caught up on all my compositions and read ahead in my textbooks. I cleaned my room thoroughly. I made up a new dance. And when I had exhausted every means of entertainment, I wondered if hunger didn’t kill me could boredom do it quicker. 

 

It wasn’t the first time I’ve been abandoned. Sometimes something kept Markus and Isabelle away, and sworn to secrecy as they were, they couldn’t send someone else to check on me. Sometimes the king orders me to be  isolated as ‘punishment’ for whatever transgressions I commit, probably hoping it would kill me. My bet was that this was one of those times, since technically Markus and Isabelle are obligated to report any time I may have been seen, and I can hardly fault them for doing their jobs. 

 

Well, maybe I can, but since they are the only two people I ever see it rarely does any good to hold a grudge.

 

Whatever it was, I wasn’t normally worried. The King couldn’t actually kill me, he was far too superstitious of the bad fortune that befell those who killed their own kin. And Markus and Isabelle would be back eventually. But I hoped would be soon; the hunger gnawing in my stomach was becoming painful. 

 

On the third day I was sleeping late when Isabelle came through the trap door with my breakfast as always. 

 

“Morning Letty.” she said cheerfully, as if nothing had happened. I groaned from my bed, unable or unwilling to move. The hunger pains had gotten worse over night- I’d been unable to sleep and spent most of the night crying instead. Isabelle tsked disapprovingly and I stopped myself from lashing out. It wasn’t Isabelle’s fault. Quietly she came and helped me sit up in bed, taking the time to check my forehead and hands to determine if I could have fallen sick. She always had to after leaving me to starve a few days, but she didn’t like it. A few times she’d found me sick with a cold and refused to notify the kind, instead treating me herself with soup and herbs she gathered. Somewhere there was a doctor who knew about me- I didn’t know his name- but I knew the king didn’t like it. 

 

Isabelle spooned oatmeal and honey into my mouth until I could eat for myself. She set herself to brushing and re-braiding my hair. We continued on until I heard the noon bells ring and noticed how late it was.”Where’s Markus?” I asked. Isabelle frowned.

 

“He’s been acting strangely these last few days; he keeps disappearing and avoiding everything. He kept dropping in on the kitchen to see if I was there- the housekeeper was ordered to keep me there, said they needed help cleaning the silver of all things, for the ball next week. Whole castle’s in a frenzy, like the king isn’t throwing some grand party or two every other week. Apparently he’s got some big announcement. The whole staff’s taking bets; either the queen’s pregnant or he’s finally marrying a prince off. Oh I hope it’s Corbin. You know he’s been lurking around, making all the servant’s uncomfortable. Imagine if he had a nice little wife to distract him. That’d be nice.”

 

I couldn’t tell is Isabelle was just rambling for the sake of rambling or if she was trying to distract me. Markus acting strangely certainly wasn’t that serious. After all, he was still an advisor to the king. I’d seen him act strangely before. Normally it meant he was just putting out a fire one of my brother’s had started. 

 

“Personally I hope Queen Trina’s with child. The poor women’s had what...four miscarriages? She deserves a little relief.” I told Isabelle. My maid only tsked.

“Some say Queen Catrina is cursed. More say the king cursed her. Everyone still thinks he killed Queen Shanice. The whole castle whispers that God has punished them both and will never allow a child to bless the marriage.” she told me. I had to contain my surprise. Of course I knew most of it- over the years I’d gathered plenty of gossip from Isabelle. My stepmother’s apparent curse, and the opinions of the court had come up before. But the part about Queen Shanice surprised me. Isabelle and Markus both always refused to speak to me about her. I practically only knew about her because Ariene told me about her.

 

Queen Shanice. The nine-month queen. A disgraced traitor.

 

My mother.

 

It was a wonder to me anyone still bothered to gossip about her. After she died she was posthumously tried and found guilty of treason; among other treacheries she’s apparently used witchcraft to seduce the king and convince him to set aside his poor, ailing wife in favor of her. She was a witch and a traitor, so what did it matter if she’d really died in childbirth or if the king had strangled her himself if she’d just have been executed anyway. Good riddance the traitor queen is gone and her bastard child never lived. Except of course, I had. 

 

“Oh I’m sorry Letty, I shouldn’t have said that” I looked up and there was Isabelle, looking sympathetically at me. I wanted to tell her it was okay, that I understood it was just a slip up. Instead I asked,

 

“Does God really punish people who are bad?”

 

“Of course.” she looked surprised at the question. I’d studied religion extensively, but had never shown a real interest in it before. Isabelle was religious, and always wore the Church of Ataria’s star around her neck, but Markus was agnostic, and I tended to side with him.

 

“Does that mean I’m bad?” I’m not sure why I asked it. I knew Isabelle’s answer even before she began sprouting protests, insisting that wasn’t the case. I nodded along but I wasn’t even listening. If God did exist and he punished the bad, why did he let me stay trapped here? Why did he let my father keep me locked away, going days without food or water, if I wasn’t in some part guilty for my mother’s sins?

* * *

 

**_Ryder_ **

 

Ryder kept thinking about ghosts and faeries. 

 

It had been over a week since Talon pulled him away from the Queen’s Tower, but Ryder couldn’t stop wondering about the figure he’d sworn he’d seen. He’d started to stop when walking through the streets to look up at the castle. The Queen’s Tower was situated in the far corner castle grounds, and even if there was anything up there it was impossible to see from so far away. Still, at least one of the windows faced the village, so Ryder kept thinking if he just looked at the right time, he would catch another glimpse.

 

Of course Talon thought he’d gone completely mental. Talon was always the most practical person he knew, which normally Ryder admired in his companions, but now he found himself in need of more open minds. But Finnick, who was more than happy to believe in ghost tales and faerie woman, was his own kind of unhelpful. When the guard had dropped by Magrit’s on his night off for some dinner and ale, Ryder had pressed the issue until Finnick told him the only entrance to the tower was behind the king’s personal quarters, the most heavily guarded room in the castle. Even if a girl had been able to sneak past the guards, which was impossible, the door was kept locked and no one knew who had the key, for neither the captain of the guards nor the royal housekeeper were in possession of it. The door had apparently been completely sealed ever since Queen Shanice died. 

 

While Ryder typically wasn’t one to believe in ghosts, the situation made him think more of the stories his Da had used to tell. His father had been more than a little superstitious about the Fair folk and other legends that haunted the Dark Forest. If he’d still been alive and Ryder could tell him about the girl he’s seen, he’d insist it was faerie waiting for her lover, or maybe he’d agree with Finnick and say Queen Shanice had returned in death as her younger, more beautiful self, and she was there to haunt the king in retribution for the death of her child. 

 

That thought distrubed Ryder a little. He’d only been a child, and had barely understood the commotion surrounding the castle for days. He may have missed it entirely if he hadn’t come into town with his Da to sell their catches. Rumors of Shanice’s treachery had faded into obscurity- he supposed no one really felt bad for a king who’d been seduced by a beautiful woman, and no one really believed she was guilty of witchcraft. But the rumor that stayed to haunt the kingdom was that of the child- a servant outside the castle had sworn they heard the baby crying, proving it was alive, and the king must have had it killed. The servant in question had been hung for ‘spreading egregious falsehoods’.

 

Ryder had to forcibly shove away the superstitious notions to focus on his hunt. He’d had very little luck his last few days of hunting, and he needed to catch something good. Making his way further into the woods, he kept his gait light and his bow ready. 

 

Finally, he heard the sound of crunching leaves coming from the east. Moving quickly he followed the sound, hoping for something as large as a buck or a stag. He hoped the prey wouldn’t run, since they were already approaching the edge of the Dark Forest. He couldn’t find any tracks, so he assumed it was approaching from the opposite direction. He was so close, just beyond that tree. He readied his arrow. He prepared to fire.

 

Coming around a large tree, he came upon his prey, and he quickly dropped the arrow. The bowstring still snapped with sudden release, causing the boy he stumbled upon to look up in interest. Surprisingly, he didn’t seem disturbed at almost getting shot, or even surprised. His glance darted to the fallen arrow and back to Ryder. “Good day for hunting?” he asked.

 

Ryder stuttered for a moment, not completely sure what to say. He’d never met the boy before but knew exactly who he was. He was a few years younger than Ryder, but his bearing was impressively controlled and regal. The horse he was tying to a tree was of the finest breeding; the saddle of the finest quality. He was outfitted in a regular riding gear, except his fine coat, which was in his signature but unfortunate color of periwinkle. Ryder had stumbled upon Prince Maxell of Ataria. 

 

“A thousand apologies, Your Highness, I did not expect to find anybody-” but the young Prince waved him off.

 

“There’s no harm done and thus no need to apologize. I on the other hand disturbed your hunting, and so I apologize to you, Mr…”

 

“Ryder Hunter, Your Highness. But really, you don’t need-” he was interrupted again. 

 

“Why you’re the tracker that found Lord Leighton’s horse. Good work on that. Well Ryder Hunter, I was about to take a rest here and enjoy some lunch. If you have to be on your way I understand, but I have more than enough food and you’re more than welcome to sit and share it with me.” And with that the prince took a pack from his horse and dropped to sit against a trunk. He pulled some dried meat from the bag and offered a piece to Ryder.

 

Apprehensively, Ryder took the food. He didn’t really want to waste his time entertaining another princeling, but he wasn’t sure if it was rude to refuse. Finally, he sat as well. Looking around, he was surprised to realize there was no one else around. Shouldn’t the prince be traveling with an entourage of servants, squires, and the like? Not riding around on his own.

 

“So Ryder Hunter, tell me. Is good game really so hard to find you have to come so far into the forest just to find some?” The prince asked. Ryder was again surprised that a prince would have any interest in the availability of game. The castle was always well stocked.

 

“Well, um, not really, Your Highness. It’s just lately it seems all the good meat have retreated into the Dark Forest. A bit of bad luck for us until they roam back.”

 

“I remember a servant once who would say animals fleeing for the Dark Forest was a sure sign of doom to come.”

 

“Aye, my Da would have said the same if he were still alive.”

 

“My condolences on your loss, Ryder Hunter.”

 

“It was along time ago. And you can just call me Ryder, Your Highness.”

 

“Nevertheless, I know it’s hard to lose a parent. And by all means, stop with the Your Highness business. I come riding out here to escape the court and the other Highnesses. Just call me Maxell.”

 

Ryder hesitated. ‘I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”

 

“It’s just you, me, and the forest out here. I don’t think anyone will fault you some impropiety. But I can make it a royal order if you’d prefer.”

 

“Very well…. Maxell.”

 

Maxell laughed. “Much better.”  He chewed down on another piece of meat, and passed the bag to Ryder. “Eat, please. I usually ask our cook Margery to pack me a light lunch, something simple, but she always goes overboard. There’s too much for just me.”

 

Ryder graciously accepted another piece, having been hunting so long he hadn’t realized how hungry he’d gotten. 

 

The prince seemed content to eat in companionable silence, or at least let Ryder speak next. Ryder was surprised to find himself relaxing in his presence. Unlike his dinner with Prince Amir the previous week, he didn’t feel the need to perform or behave up to a royal standard. The fact there were no preening nobles or nervous servants around certainly helped that. 

 

“If you don’t mind, Maxell, can I ask you a question?”

 

“Of course. What is a prince but a servant to the realm? Ask me anything.”

 

“Well, what are you doing out here by yourself? Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, leading a hunting party or something?”

 

“Ah yes, I suppose it would make more sense for a prince to entertain himself with a swarm of noblemen at his back, servants ready with a picnic lunch for when we got tired, ladies of the court tagging along to admire out work. Is that what you mean?”

 

“Well?”

“I’m teasing, Ryder. The truth is I like being by myself. I come riding in the forest sometimes to get away from the castle. It’s overcrowded and recently I’ve found avoiding my brothers is the best way to get along with them. Besides, I’m of little enough importance there. Hardly any of the nobles or servants bother with me.”

 

“But you’re a prince?” Ryder asked incredulously. Maxell shrugged.

“The youngest of six princes, and soon I may not even have that distinction. Heir to nothing unless my father finally lets me pursue a marriage alliance. Free to wander and pursue my own interests as I wish. That reminds me, do you want some water? I have a canteen right here, I almost forgot.”

 

Ryder took the canteen and drank, still unsure. “Doesn’t that ever get...a little lonely?”

 

Maxell shrugged again. “Sometimes maybe. Not really. My brothers can be tolerable one at a time, and I spend a lot of time with my stepmother. Trina’s interested in geography and culture. She traveled before marrying my dad you know. So when I want company I go to her salon. And I have a little more movement than say, Corbin or Amir. Sometimes I ride to the further towns and ports and meet new people, You wouldn’t believe the interesting stories other people bring with them.”

 

“I’m sure I wouldn’t.” Ryder agreed. Despite traveling into the Dark Forest, he’d never lived anywhere but Castleton and the forest with his Da. Maxell’s stories actually made him long for the same freedom to just up and leave.

 

“Well what about you? What keeps you here? Family? Wife? Job?” Maxell asked.

 

“The works decent.”

 

“There’s work anywhere for a pair of strong arms and good ethic.”

 

Ryder considered. “I suppose. I couldn’t leave though. My Da-” he gestured to the forest around them, not sure what else to say. Luckily, Maxell seemed to understand.

“Memories are worth more to some than others will ever understand. You’re lucky to still have a place you can feel close to your father.” Then a little more sadly- “My mum died before I was even a year old. I can’t remember even a little of her. Sometimes I think my father’s second wife wiped away all the memories of her.”

 

Ryder searched for something to say to comfort his new companion. “I was a child then, but I’ve heard people say Queen Eva was a wonderful person. Always kind and gentle toward her subjects.”

 

Maxell’s smile returned. “Yes, she was beloved by so many people. Trina tries so hard, but she’s too sheltered in the palace. She’ll never win the love of the people if she doesn’t make herself more accessible.

 

For a minute, the ridiculity of his situation occurred to Ryder. Here he was, sitting on the forest floor with a prince of the realm, discussing the politics of his family and referring to the queen by her nickname. It certainly wasn’t what he expected when he set out that morning. 

 

Finally Maxell stood to stretch his legs and Ryder followed suit. The respite had been nice, but he still had a hunt to finish.

 

“It was nice to meet you, Ryder Hunter.” Ryder was about to perform the customary bow but instead Maxell stuck his hand out for a shake. Not too surprised by the prince’s odd ways, Ryder took it and they shook firmly.  Maxell turned and mounted his ride. “If you’re ever at the palace, send a message. Margery’s lunches may be overkill, but they have nothing on what she can do to an afternoon tea” Ryder laughed. As if he would ever have reason to go back to the palace, save no one else lost a horse in the Dark Forest. As Maxell turned his horse around, a thought occurred to Ryder.

 

“Maxell!” The prince turned back around. “Sorry to ask but… would anyone ever have reason to go up to the Queen’s Tower?”

 

Maxell’s face twisted in genuine confusion. “No one’s been up there for years. It’s sealed up. WHy do you ask?”

 

Ryder shook his head. “It’s nothing.” he said. “I thought I’d seen someone up there the night I retrieved the horse.” He looked up to find Maxell looking at him contemplatively. “It must have been my imagination.”

“Hmm” Maxell murmured. “Probably, yes. Everyone gets worked up about that old tower. Their convinced it’s haunted by… well it doesn’t matter.” But even as he said, Ryder couldn’t help but notice Maxell didn’t look convinced. Nevertheless, his face resumed its usual smile. “Good day to you Ryder Hunter. Remember my offer” and he kicked his horse into a trot and rode away until the sixth prince of Ataria was nothing more than a violet speckle in the distance. 

  
  



	4. Maxell I

**_Maxell_ **

As the youngest son of the King, Maxell was used to being overlooked. So much so that while his other brother’s were closely watched and attended, he’d thus far been the only one to successfully sneak away from the palace for a day or three. He’d once hoped his adventures would prove his capability to his father, so that when he turned 18 he could enlist in the Royal Navy. But that dream, like so many others, had been shut down by this father’s excessively controlling nature. 

 

Still, being unneeded but with nowhere else to go had its advantages. He knew more than anybody realized. He saw the crimes they thought they’d gotten away with. And most importantly he had learned a long time ago the value of listening. 

 

Maxell wasn’t stupid, and unlike his family he wasn’t content to simply ignore the rumors that spiraled around them. Ryder’s report of  seeing a girl in the Queen’s Tower bothered him, because he’s heard it before. Stablehands whispered that in the dead of night they’d run across the courtyard and seen the shadows of a lamp flickering against the window. A scullery maid once swore she’d heard singing from the tower earlier than the sun one morning. And a guard who claimed he’d seen the outline of a girl behind gossamer drapes brushing her hair. 

 

Maxell had wanted to ask his father when he first began to hear these rumors, but everyone knew if anything would set the king off it would be mentioning of the Queen’s Tower. Surprisingly, he’d found it was one of the King’s advisors, General Markus Andreas, who handled all mentions of the tower. Maxell had been sitting in on a cabinet meeting, though no one ever noticed or acknowledged his presence, when the new Master of Finance suggested they remove the tower to reuse the stones and expand the gardens. Though everyone looked to see the king’s reactions, General Andreas had spoken up immediately, not waiting for his Majesty’s approval. That’s why he caught Maxell’s attention.

 

As General Andreas explained, rather annoyedly, to the Master that tower was the only part of the original castle still standing and it’s cultural value was far too great to destroy it, Maxell noticed the other attendees reactions. Most of them looked away, nodding slightly. It wasn’t the agreement of unanimous consensus; it was the submission of men who knew better than to argue. General Andreas spoke in such a commanding way he left no room for argument, and without the support of the King no movement would ever move forward regarding the tower. It made Maxell immediately suspect the General had other interests in the tower than just ‘cultural significance’.

 

_ After the meeting, Maxell rushed to follow General Andreas out. Thought the other advisors and courtiers stayed to mingle and enjoy some refreshments, the General had practically disappeared by the time Maxell made it out of the Council Chamber. _

 

_ “General Andreas” he finally caught up with him just as the General was exiting out towards the main front courtyard. The General turned, annoyance clear on his features. His glare faded to an exasperated look when he saw Maxell. For a moment, Maxell was offended. He’d rarely even spoken to the General, what reason had he to dislike him? _

 

_ “Your Highness.” The General bowed his head respectfully. Maxell came to a halt in front of him, suddenly unsure what exactly to said. If nothing else, General Andreas was intimidating. _

 

_ “I, um, I was hoping to speak to you regarding the Queen’s Tower’s significance.” _

 

_ “I’m very busy, Your Highness, perhaps you could consult one of the palace librarians on the matter?” he turned to go, but Maxell grabbed his arm. _

 

_ “It’s just that people talk. About the tower. It seems everyone except the King has something to say about it. And you seem to know so much about it, I thought that maybe you knew something I didn’t, I guess.” _

_ Andreas looked at him again with a look of apprehension, and Maxell was afraid he’d walk off without saying anything. Insulting a minor prince really wasn’t that great an offense, especially for a man who’d been the King’s greatest general. But instead the General just looked at him, and Maxell stood uncomfortably under his gaze as he felt for the first time as if he was really being seen. _

 

_ Finally he spoke. “It’s true, your father does not speak about the Tower nor has he ever since he ordered it sealed off and abandoned fifteen years ago. But you are right. It is more important that anyone realizes. Come lad. Sit with me.” _

 

_ Andreas had led Maxell to stone bench beneath a yew tree. From where they sat they could see over the West wing and the Queen’s Tower rising above it. Gossamer curtains fluttered in the window.  “Forgive me” he said, “For I am an old man and must rest myself occasionally.” Maxell hadn’t thought he looked or stood or walked like an old man. In fact, Maxell thought if he’d given any indication of age, he wouldn’t be nearly so intimidating. _

 

_ “The truth is, that tower represents something much more valuable than the history of Ataria. What that tower represents is nothing less than your father’s reputation.” _

 

_ It hadn’t been the answer Maxell expected, but he needn’t ask before the general elaborated. _

 

_ “You see, your mother Queen Eva, God rest her soul, loved that tower. It was her personal study, her private retreat. You’re too young to remember of course, but she used to take your brothers up there and teach them to paint, as she would have taken you. As she grew weaker near the end of her life, she couldn’t make the climb, and so rather than remain away she moved up there. She passed away up there. Of course the grieving did not last long, since your father quickly married Queen Shanice and expected his next child.” _

 

_ Maxell started at the name. It was forbidden to even name Queen Shanice out loud. She was rarely mentioned, and if ever was referred to simply as ‘the king’s second wife’. _

 

_ “Yes, yes. I’m aware of the law. You must forgive me for saying this my Prince, and know I only do because I sense in you a certain level-headedness and intelligence, but I find your father’s hasty covering of his mistakes foolhardy. He married her when he barely knew her, all because he wanted another son. He should live with the consequences of his actions.” Maxell had never heard anyone so openly speak that way about his father. Rather than be offended, he found it surprisingly refreshing that the general spoke his mind about the king. Andreas must have sensed his agreement, for he continued. _

 

_ “Shanice also loved the Tower, though I feel she may have only loved that it was now hers. While her memory has been tarnished beyond what she deserved, make no mistake, she was not a kind woman. She was scheming and manipulative. She was in the tower when she went into labor so there she stayed and died as well.” _

 

_ “With her son.” Maxell added, since that was the story that he’d always been told. His lost little brother. _

 

_ General Andreas paused. “She brought no living son into the world, it’s true.” he finally said. _

 

_ “I advised your father against sealing away the tower, but he insisted. He wanted nothing and no one to be able to enter or leave the tower again. Whether he was trying to preserve Queen Eva’s sanctuary or lock away Queen Shanice’s memory, or even to simply leave their death place alone and unbothered, I’ll never know. But the point is, he ordered it left alone, never to be touched or entered again, as a result of his wives’ deaths. Perhaps if such a big deal hadn’t been made of it, we wouldn’t be having this problem now. But as it is, should the King ever go back on his decision, or anyone ever enter the toer, it’ll make him look indecisive. Like he doesn’t hold to his word. And if anyone thinks they can defy him, he will look weak in front of the people. And that is how King’s fall.  _

 

_ Maxell took a moment to process all of this. “It seems an awful lot of work” he finally said, “just to preserve a reputation.” _

 

_ Andreas chuckeld at him. “One day, my boy, when you better understand what it means to rule, you’ll know that reputation is one of the most powerful weapons you have. Now, you want to protect your father’s reputation, don’t you?” _

 

_ Maxell wasn’t really sure he did, especially after hearing the general peak the way he did, but he got the sense that General Andreas though he should protect the king’s reputation, so he told him all of the rumors he’d heard. Then he listened as he was told what to say to differ each rumor. The stableboys had seen a reflection from another window. The maid had heard songbirds. The guard had fallen asleep on duty.  _

 

_ “From now on, Your Highness, bring any concerns you have about the Tower to me. It’s bad enough the rumor of ‘Old Shany’s Ghost’ hangs around like a plague. No one must ever think or speak of the Tower being entered.” _

 

_ “Of course General Andreas. Thank you.” Maxell said. “But-” he hastily said before the other man could stand, “but just so I’m clear; no one has entered the tower in the past fifteen years?” _

 

_ “You may call me Markus, Your Highness. And yes, rest assured. There is absolutely no chance in any way, that any person has been in the tower. I’m certain of it.” _

 

_ “How can you be so certain?” _

 

_ “Because, Your Highness. There is only one key to the Tower door.” He pulled a string from around his neck. “And I have it right here.” _

 

That conversation had been two years ago. In that time, Maxell had done as Markus said. Any rumor he heard had been reported to Markus, never the King, and he and Markus had come up with explanations for every instance, which he’d spread back to the source. In return for his help preserving the reputation of the tower, Maxell got an unexpected reward- an ally in the court. Markus’s place as general and advisor was enough to convince the king to allowed Maxell to disappear when he liked, if not for very long. That alone had been enough to convince Maxell to continue his assistance. 

 

But this report worried Maxell in a way he normally didn’t. After all the other phenomena were easy mistakes and simply explained away. He had no doubt in what Markus told him to be true. But this- this was only the second time someone actually reported seeing someone in the tower. And both times it’d been figure of a girl.

 

Maxell knew it was impossible. The door to the Tower was in the King’s quarters, in a corridor off the side door of the main chamber. The hallway itself was rarely used and often neglected, it was only used to walk from foyer to the parlour if you didn’t want to go through the bedchamber. He’d walked by the tower’s entrance a hundred times, even tried to open it a few times, but it was always locked tight. There was no way anyone but Markus could get in, and he never would.

 

But still it bothered him. It was still on his mind when he returned to the castle in the late afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to set. Ignoring the main entrance, he rode around to the northwest courtyard where the stables were, and were on the cliffs edge the tower rose. Staring up at it, he saw nothing unusual except that the heavier drapes had drifted close again. No matter. The wind up there was worse than the coastal wind down here, and that was saying something. It was only natural the drapes should be pushed back and forth sometimes.

 

Dismounting his horse and leading it to the stable, he resolved to find Markus and tell him his concerns. Markus would have an explanation. He somehow always had an explanation. 

  
  



	5. Nikolette IV

**_Nikolette_ **

Markus was definitely acting strange. 

When he’d finally appeared again after several days he’d acted as if nothing had happened, which was a dead giveaway that something was off. Markus was always ready to lecture her, especially if she’d been seen. Of course she didn’t really think Corbin had seen her, but that was beyond the point.

Finally unable to stand her teacher giving listing one more fact on Western Atarian geography, she’d asked what the matter was.

He’d stiffened. “Nothing’s the matter, Your Highness.”

“Why’d you disappear for so long?”

“The King diverted my attentions.”

“Because Isabelle told him I could have been seen?”

“Among other reasons, yes. He’s quite busy at the moment with preparations for the ball on Sunday evening?”

Nikolette had once again forgotten what day it was, so that didn’t mean much to her. “Isn’t that Queen Catrina’s job?”

“The Queen is handling the social preparations to be sure. The King is preparing to meet with our allies and discuss certain matters of state. Now about our lesson-”

“Did Corbin see me?” Nikolette interrupted. “He’d have said something if he saw me, right?”

“Prince Corbin did not report seeing you, though from what Isabelle tells me it was very close-”

“So why no lecture?” Nikolette interrupted again. “Why aren’t you yelling at me about the risks of being caught? Where’s the slap on the wrist; the having to recite every Atarian royal whoever got executed; the damn “I’m not mad I’m just disappointed” speech?”

“First of all, Princess Nikolette, it is improper for a lady both to interrupt and to curse. Surely I taught you that.” Markus said sternly. “And as to your questions, I simply did not feel it was necessary at the moment.”

“You don’t care I almost got caught?”

“Of course I care, but at the moment I have other concerns.”

“What kind of concerns?”

“None of yours. Now may we please return to the lesson? I want to finish your geography and botany before I’m done here today.”

Nikolette had complied, though she still questioned her teacher’s apathy. Unless Markus had grown tired of caring for her and wanted her found, which she severely doubted, she was at a loss to explain his behavior. His lessons stretched on as well; while he used to wrap up in the mid-afternoon and return to his other duties to the King, he was now often still there in the evening when Isabelle returned with Nikolette’s dinner. Nikolette swore she must have been reciting facts about regional trees and her father’s political changes in her sleep; Markus’ lessons had been crammed full lately. 

But Nikolette found herself on Saturday evening thinking of all that had happened in the past week, that days class had been the most interesting. It was on a topic nearly taboo in her little tower- her family.

“It’s important for a young lady to understand politics. Here in Ataria, that means understanding the royal family.” Markus had explained even as Isabelle watched in abject horror. She could only come briefly today; she was to join the regular staff in preparing for and staffing tomorrow’s ball. For once, Nikolette was glad to have a lesson without her quips.

Markus started with the King. “The seventh son of King Archibald, His Majesty inherited his throne by chance after his elder brothers fell in battle, to disease, and by assassination. He ended the war by arranging temporary peace treaties with all of Ataria’s neighbors- these must be renewed every five years and require each kingdom to meet certain requirements.” Nikolette of course had known all this. She remembered when Markus had gone on the quinquennial trip four years to renew each alliance. What she didn’t understand is why the countries didn’t just negotiate a lasting peace.

He then listed her brothers and their characters. Some things, like Amir’s extravagant style or Henrik’s love of music she already knew. But other bits surprised her.

Corbin, the eldest prince and heir to the throne, was a ruthless leader and warrior. He was known to suggest aggressive solutions to every problem and used his control of royal funds to keep the military outfitted with modern weaponry and training. He’d been assigned the color red at birth, and it was said he wore color in darker shades so if he should ever be cut his opponent wouldn’t see him bleed.

Prince Amir was the second son, spare heir, and royal scandal. He loved expensive clothes and flashy performances, and was always seen in gaudy shirts in his assigned orange. He was no warrior or politician, but he was surprisingly good with numbers for someone who spent so wastefully. According to Markus, though he was pompous and vain he was generally charming and well-liked around the court. His attentions were especially desired from several noblewomen and if the rumors were true, their brothers. 

Of all her brothers the one Nikolette knew the least about was Prince Royce. She thought it was funny that the prince who was the most quiet and reserved of the bunch had been assigned a color as bright as yellow at birth. Royce spent most of his time in the library or meeting with renowned scholars and academics. Nikolette had actually found his notes scribbled in the margins of books Markus brought her from the library several times. She’d smiled as she read his insights and questions among the texts of great philosophers and historians. He was also the only other brother who directed royal funds with the Master of Finance, and used his influence to build schools and employ teachers. Nikolette liked him.

Princes Artur and Henrik, the non-twins, were much the same as one another. By the time they’d grown up they realized the roles of warrior, socializer, and scholar were already filled by their brothers, which left them with little to distinguish themselves. Though they fought each other often, they were also closest to each other of all their brothers, having been born only 9 months apart. The way Markus described them, neither was particularly bright or had any remarkable skills.

Finally, Maxell, the youngest son and prince. He was rarely brought up in Markus’ lectures or Isabelle’s gossip, and she learned today it was because he kept to himself, away from the drama of the castle. She’d seen him before, leaving and returning to the castle, and envying how free he was to come and go as he pleased. She always thought it was too bad he’d been born sixth, and was saddled with the unfortunately feminine violet birth color. Apparently he wanted to join the Navy. Nikolette could hardly imagine a prince working side by side with common sailors, but she’d long since accepted the world was much bigger than her imagination.

Part of her liked learning about her family. But for another part of her, it hurt. Wasn’t she just as much a child of the king as any of the princes? Yet she was shucked off to the tower to live in hiding, and they got every opportunity in the world. They could study or fight or train as they pleased. Hell they had siblings and friends their own age to play or argue with. Nikolette could claim to know five people in the whole world. Her first nurse Ariene and the priest who’d prevented her father from killing her a birth- both dead. A physician entrusted with the secret of her life that she saw once a year and never spoke to her. Markus and Isabelle. Why didn’t she get fine clothes and birthday parties and a beautiful horse to ride? Where was her crown and dinners and dreams of a future? Why was this her life when that was there’s?

_ Because you’re mother cursed you for her mistakes. Because you’re a threat to the king. Because you’re better off dead. _

Nikolette forced herself to shove aside the dark thoughts. It did no good to dwell on the past, on the decisions of parents she never knew. She wished to god Markus had left her something to do when he departed, but in keeping with his strange behavior, he hadn’t assigned her anything to do. He’d never left without giving her some task to complete. 

“Enjoy the day off, Your Highness. Finish one of those novels you like. Experiment with your cosmetics.” Markus had suggested when he left, and Nikolette knew something was definitely off. Markus never,  _ never _ , suggested she do anything that wasn’t productive in some way.

“Markus, what’s going on?” She asked again as he started down the trapdoor. 

“Nothing, Your Highness.” But he wasn’t looking at her like nothing was going on. He looked at her with sadness in his eyes. “I just hope you’ll be happy tonight. You deserve one… that is, you deserve a night off.”

Nikolette’s brows in disbelief. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere Markus. I’ll have plenty of nights to enjoy myself.” she reminded him.

Markus smiled, and she could swear there was something hidden in that smile. “Yes of course. I’ll see you tomorrow, Princess”. He disappeared beneath the trapdoor and was gone before Nikolette could remind him tomorrow was Sunday and he’d be too busy with the ball to see her.

The ball. Nikolette was sure it was what had Markus so distracted. Something about it was bothering him and that’s why he’d been so strange this past week. She wondered if it was the visiting dignitaries. Was something wrong with the treaty? Did Ataria not meet its requirements to extend the peace? Ugh, why did no one tell her anything!

Frustrated, Nikolette resigned herself to reading and found herself a few hours later having been unable to focus and brushing her hair by the window. She didn’t often care about her appearance, but Arien had always brushed and braided her hair so Nikolette found comfort in the motion. Tomorrow morning would be a rush of preparations; by the afternoon guests would arrive and then the music would last late into the night as they nobles and courtiers and royals celebrated and danced and did whatever it was they did. Not that any of it mattered to her. She’d still be here, watching and waiting for the next day, completely unaffected by the party downstairs. 


	6. Maxell II/Nikolette V

Maxell

  
The night of the ball, Maxell sensed something off in the air. The carriages arrived exactly when they were expected too. The music began exactly when it was supposed to. The food was laid out and tasted exactly as it should. But still, something nagged at Maxell’s mind.  
He stood stiffly shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother Henrik. The six princes were all lined up next to their father as he sat on the throne greeting their guests, Catrina at his other side. Soon he was itching at his collar, ready to dispense with the formalities and disappear to the buffet room, maybe even the dance floor. A few of the guests, after making their respects to the king, stopped to speak with one of the older set, but he, Henrik, and Artur were largely ignored and greeted only with a polite bow or curtsy. In fact, he was pretty sure if he could slip away without his family noticing, he’d be unmissed.  
Finally, when the bulk of the guests had arrived and paid their respects, the princes were free to wander. Maxell didn’t wait to see where his brothers went off to; he went to find whatever it was making him anxious. His gaze swept the room a few times, counting the guards, the servants, and the exits-and found nothing amiss. He resumed his wandering, not sure what he expected. Not looking where he stepped, he rounded a column and ran smack into another body.  
The clatter of a serving tray hitting the floor had him worried, as well as the feminine oomph; but no sound of broken glass or falling bodies followed.  
“Your Highness!” a voice squeaked. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you coming, please forgive me.” Maxell looked down to see a woman probably a few years older than him, judging from lines that were beginning to form around her eyes, but her tiny stature made her look younger.  
“Not a problem at all.” he assured with a smile. “Forgive me for not looking where I was going.”  
The servant didn’t seem sure what to say to that. She ducked down to retrieve her, thankfully empty, tray. Maxell took a second to examine her. When she noticed, she tensed under his study.  
“You don’t look familiar,” he said. “Are you new?”  
“No, sir.” the woman replied. “I’ve worked at the palace for several years now.”  
“I thought I knew everyone who worked in the palace.” The woman shifted uncomfortably. “What’s your name? And where are you stationed?”  
“Isabelle Smythe, Your Highness. I work as a personal attendant to General Andreas” she said. Maxell was surprised. In all his years working with Markus, he’d never noticed him having a servant. Immediately, suspicion crept over him.  
“That’s funny that we’ve never met then. I thought I knew everything about General Andreas.”  
“Do you know why he disappears all morning? Do you know why he his meals delivered to his room rather than eating with the King? Do you know why he is allowed to use the King’s back parlor as a personal study?” Isabelle fired off the questions so rapidly, Maxell was a bit stunned. He didn’t know those things; he’d been told by Markus enough times not to worry about it that he assumed it was for private reasons. Isabelle’s confidence when questioning him was unwavering, and Maxell found he doubted his earlier skepticism.  
“Do you know those answers?” he asked.  
Isabelle bowed her head, though whether it was a nod in the affirmative or a reverential display he wasn’t sure. “Perhaps it is not for Your Highness to assume you know everything about another person.” With a quick curtsy, she flitted away, leaving Maxell confused to her meaning and determined to seek out Markus and get an explanation.  
Though he admired the woman’s fortitude, Maxell couldn’t help but wonder at the way she’d spoken to him. He could easily have her dismissed for impertinence. And yet she’d been deferential until he’d questioned her position.  
He finally spotted Markus standing apart from the crowd. Markus stood observing the crowd, looking so still and impassive he may have passed for a statue. As Maxell approached, he noticed Markus kept glancing down. He had practically reached the older man when he realized it was pocket watch he kept looking at.  
“Markus-” he started, apparently startling the advisor because Markus’s free hand flew his knife hilted at his belt before realizing it was Maxell approaching him. He gave the customary bow, but it was stiff. Maxell realized this was the first time he’d been able to get Markus’ attention all week. He’d always had a habit of showing up when he was expected to and being close to unfindable whenever else, but Markus had barely been seen in the palace lately. “Sorry to bother you. I just wanted to ask about a woman I just met,” Markus’ eyes narrowed “Isabelle Smythe? She said she worked for you. I just thought it strange I’d never seen her before.”  
Markus seemed to soften just a bit. “Ahh, always vigilant, young prince. But there’s no need tonight. Isabelle does indeed work for me. I keep busy hours and I find it more helpful to have one maid doing everything than scores of them coming and going whenever. But when the castle is understaffed she return to normal duties to help where she’s needed.” Maxell couldn’t quite place it, but he thought there was something different about Markus’ tone. He sounded less like he meant to assuage Maxell’s guilt and more like he was trying to explain away an over-curious child. Maxell reddened. He hated being treated like a child.  
Markus’ gaze flicked to his pocket watch again.  
“Have somewhere to be, Markus?” Maxell asked.  
The pocket watch snapped shut. “I’m waiting for an old friend. He’s supposed to be meeting me soon.”  
“One of your war friends?”  
“We met while both serving, yes. He’s a Captain in the Royal Navy.”  
That caught Maxell’s attention. “I should very much like to meet this friend.” Markus knew Maxell had always been interested in the Royal Navy. A connection to a captain could be just what Maxell needed to be allowed to enlist.  
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible tonight, Your Highness.” Markus said, dashing Maxell’s dreams. “The captain and I have important business to attend to, and he cannot stay much longer than that.”  
“But it’s a party.” Maxell tried not to sound petulant, determined not to act like a child and be dismissed like one. “Surely business can wait one night.”  
“Not this business, I’m afraid. It is of the utmost urgency.”  
“If it’s important than let me help.”  
“No.” The refusal came out of Markus so fast Maxell got whiplash. “I’m sorry, Your Highness. But the business is personal and I must ask you not to interfere.”  
Markus had never spoken to him so coldly, not since they first met. Maxell was momentarily stunned by the reaction. Not knowing what else to do, he simply nodded.  
Several things happened next. The king’s herald called for attention, Markus check his watch again, and Maxell saw an older man in an official Navy uniform slip quietly into the room. The weather-beaten old man surveyed the room, much like Maxell had not too long ago, before his eyes met with Markus’. The two men exchanged distant nods. Turning back to Maxell, Markus gave a short bow. “Excuse me, Your Highness.” he turned to walk away. Before he got very far though, he turned back to Maxell. “If I may suggest, my prince, you should find your father, or one of your brothers. It may be a very important night for your family.” With that cryptic warning, he disappeared. Floundered, Maxell wasn’t sure what to do next, but he took Markus’s advice, and went to seek out Amir.

 

* * *

 

Nikolette

  
Nikolette was dancing around her room, doing her best to remember the steps to the courtly dances that Ariene had taught her once, long ago. She was actually rather enjoying herself, with the cool summer breeze coming in and the music loud below her. An old stuffed bear made her dancing partner, but she didn’t mind. She expected to be left in her peaceful solo ball for the whole night; which is why the sound of the trap door creaking open startled her.  
“Markus?” she said as he let himself in through the floor. “What are you doing here? You should be at the ball.”  
Markus had a hard, determined look in his eyes Nikolette had only seen a few times before. He was dressed in an elegant suit that made him look handsome, but Nikolette couldn’t help but notice that he wore a long knife she’d never seen before, concealed under his coat.  
“What’s happening?” she asked quietly.  
“We’re leaving.” he told her. “Right now.”  
“What are you talking about?” Nikolette asked incredulously. Markus ignored the question, instead moving to the little chest where Isabelle kept her clothes packed away and grabbed a couple simple dresses and leggings, stuffing them in a bag. “Markus, stop it, I can’t leave!” Markus stood, task accomplished.  
“Is there anything in this tower you can’t live without?” he asked her. “Grab it now, leave everything else. We’ll get you new books and clothes and anything else you want.”  
“Will you listen to yourself for a moment? You know what will happen if I try to leave.” Nikolette stood rooted to her spot. Markus finally slowed down a bit, and he took Nikolette by the shoulders, lowering himself to be eye level with her.  
“No one regret’s Ariene’s fate more than I. Her attempt to rescue you from this place was ill planned, but noble all the same. But I promise, Your Highness, I’ve put years of planning into tonight. I have accounted for every variable. You are leaving this tower, and you are leaving tonight.”  
Nikolette entered a haze of uncertainty. Looking around, she saw the bedroom in which she spent all six thousand, six hundred, and thirty-eight days of her life. It suddenly looked smaller, like the possibility of freedom coming in from the outside was crushing it together. The clothing in her chest, the books stacked on the floor, the basket of old toys and dolls; all her only possessions in the world that she might never see again. Her walls draped in bolts of orange and purple and blue; she’d never wake up to them again. The curtain that hid her tallies was still hung back from that morning; what would it be like to wake up and never put another tally on that wall.  
“We have to go now, Princess” Markus’s voice reached her out of her haze.  
“Wait,” she stammered, and flew to her bedside, ducking and reaching for something she hadn’t pulled out in years. Her hands finally grasped the small wooden box, and when she pulled it out it was covered in dust. There were only two items in it. She lifted out the silver necklace first, emerald gleaming. She heard Markus suck in a breath behind her. Hastily, she shoved Shanice’s necklace in her pocket. Then she pulled out a metal cuff, much simpler in make, but with a beautifully carved design depicting sunbursts and flowers etched into the metal. She slipped it onto her wrist, and stood again. “Okay, I’m ready.”  
Markus descended the trap door first, turning back to hold out a hand to her. “Watch your head,” he warned. The last and only time Nikolette had tried this descent; she hadn’t needed to duck to get through. Markus pulled her gently down the stairs, her meager possessions in his other hand. The tower steps seemed to spiral downwards forever. Nikolette kept one hand on the wall to keep her balance.  
Upon reaching the tower’s exit, Markus stopped and knocked twice. Immediately, a responding knock came from the other side. Markus opened the door and Nikolette stepped back.  
“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Markus assured her before she could even say anything. “He’s a friend. He’s going to help us get to the docks.”  
“Pleasure to meet you, miss. Name’s Dominic McTully.” He nodded his greeting. Nikolette nodded back, not really sure how to meet a new person. It didn’t matter; soon she was being tugged along again, not to the right and out into the castle, but to the left towards the end of the hall. Down here, the music was quieter. More walls between her and the players she supposed. But unless she’d lost her sense of direction in the spiral (which she thought entirely possible) there was nothing this was. The castle was built on a cliff side for defensive reasons. The end of the hall had a door that opened into the King’s study, Nikolette knew. She often reflected on the irony of being so close in distance to him all this time. The study was...not what she expected. She thought it would be opulent, more aesthetic than function. She figured the king would want to look smart. Even as Markus moved to a far bookshelf, he sensed her appraisal.  
“The King never uses this room. As such, I got his permission to use it for my own work instead. It has allowed me to remain close to you and provided Isabelle with the excuse of serving me when she is bringing you your food.” He pulled out a book, and to Nikolette’s delight behind the shelf moved.  
“It’s like one of my adventure novels!” she exclaimed.  
Dominic laughed. “If you want an adventure, you will love what comes next.” The door widened just enough so the three of them could slip out. Isabelle recognized this area, where the grass grew taller and the ground dropped into a cliff. Guiding her again, the two older men waded into the rocks until Nikolette began to worry they’d fall off. Instead, they started to gradually descend.  
“The exit and path were built by the first kings to inhabit this castle. It was meant to be an escape in case they ever came under siege.” Markus told her as climbed down the cliff face. “It has only been used on a few rare occasions. Most of the royal family doesn’t even know it exists.”  
“The last king was declared the escape was more dangerous than an attack.” Dominic called back, though quietly. Nikolette leaned away from the rock in order to look at him questioningly, and instead got her first clear look down. Her stomach followed her gaze. She focused her attention on the back of Markus’s head again, trying to ignore the fatal drop a foot to her right.  
This was farther from her tower than she’d ever gotten. Ariene’s first attempt had been thwarted just as they reached the outside. Nikolette hadn’t even gotten to step outside a stone structure for once in her life before she’d been dragged back to her prison. But now she was climbing a cliff. Wind whipped the loose tendrils in her hair, flinging salt in her face. There was a dinghy tied to the rocks just below, and she could see two more men waiting on it.  
Off the path the ground turned soft.‘Sand’ Nikolette thought as she pressed her toes further down. ‘This is what sand feels like.’ It was cool now, but Nikolette remembered books describing it as hot. The thought caused her to frown and look at her bare feet. She’d never had a pair of shoes before, but she thought she would probably need them.  
Markus didn’t give her any time to think more. He actually lifted her, as if she was still a child and he wasn’t an old man, and set her down in the small wooden boat. He kneeled beside her.  
“Dominic and his men will row you into the village port. It should be that no one sees you in the dark. Tomorrow morning, their ship is scheduled to sail up north. Your mother’s family has an estate there, a large one. I’ve been in contact with Shanice’s brother; he’s going to take care of you. The King can’t admit he’s lost you, so there won’t be much of a search. Once it’s safe, you’ll be free to go wherever you like. You can leave Ataria; start a new life somewhere else. I’ve arranged for you to have the means you’ll need. It’s not nearly what you deserve, but it will have to be enough.”  
“Aren’t you coming with me?” Nikolette asked, suddenly realizing this was goodbye. Then Markus did something quite uncharacteristic. He hugged her tightly.  
“I can’t, my dear. I have to go back and make sure the king doesn’t discover you’re missing, and that Isabelle won’t take any blame when he does. When the time is right, I promise, I will see you again.” And then he dropped a kiss to her temple, and in an instant was gone, helping push the boat into the open water.  
“Go quickly.” he told Dominic. “And keep her safe.”  
The men Dominic had brought started to row, and soon the four of them were gliding away from the shore. Nikolette turned in her seat to stare back at Markus. He was seeing them off rather than returning immediately. Finally, Nikolette remembered to lift her hand in a wave. She didn’t know how to say goodbye to anyone either. “Goodbye, Markus.” she called quietly, the wind carrying away her words.


	7. Nikolette VI/Maxell III

_**Nikolette** _

Nikolette hurdled through the forest for what felt like hours but couldn't have been that long. In the back of her head she reasonably knew that she wouldn't be able to go for long, or make it far. She knew physical fitness required training, practice, and she had none of that. But adrenaline pumped through her veins and kept her flying forward, deeper into the forest and most importantly, away from the Night Guard that'd come to reclaim her.

It was a stroke of good fortune that she hadn't been beneath the decks of the _Shining Blue_ when they came. Captain McTully and his men had rowed their little dinghy into the harbor in just over an hour after they'd left the castle. Though the distance wasn't too great, they'd had to go slow in order to remain unseen and unheard by any chance passersby. A cloak had been thrown over her to conceal her, and the three men led her towards the much larger Navy ship.

Nikolette balked at the flag portraying the royal crest waving proudly at the top of the mast, but Captain McTully pushed her forward. "We're a Navy ship; we serve the crown and fly the flag." He leaned down and whispered in her ear. "But you have nothing to fear. Our status means we'll be able to enter and leave port without being searched by customs. My men have been told you're General Andreas' goddaughter, and that you're traveling North incognito. They know better than to question a senior officer for the reasons."

"Is this kind of thing normal to ask of you to do?" Nikolette asked.

"I'm loyal to crown and country, as much as any man, I suppose. But occasionally Markus asks me to do things for the good of the kingdom, and he's rarely wrong. As servants of the kingdom, our first duty must be to the people, rather than the king." McTully explained. "Which means doing what's right over doing what the king demands."

Nikolette had simply nodded and allowed herself to be escorted toward the ship when she suddenly felt something stab her foot. She yelped and hopped up, trying to see what had happened to her. The Captain caught her and leaned down to examine her foot. A huge splinter stuck out of it, right at the ball of her foot. McTully _hmmed_ thoughtfully.

"We can't have you walking around a wooden ship with no shoes on." He said as he pulled the splinter out. He looked back into town for a moment. "The cobbler on Main Street typically works through the night. We'll see if we can get his attention and buy you a pair of boots before sunrise." He waved the other two men to go on ahead, and changed his direction, guiding her away from the ship again. Nikolette halted.

"Markus said to hide on ship until it left port."

"Markus trusts me, you should too. The cobbler will need ot measure you to get the right size. Don't you worry, we have plenty of time before dawn, and no one's leaving that party anytime soon."

Mention of the party had been enough to distract Nikolette as they walked into town. She wondered where Isabelle was- she'd be serving at the party. She wouldn't even realize yet Nikolette was gone, might not realize it until tomorrow morning when she came to bring her her breakfast. Markus would have returned to the king by now, acting as an advisor and companion. Had the king's announcement been made? She wondered what it was. Would she ever know? Maybe one of her brothers would be sent off to marry a distant princess, and they'd leave without ever knowing they'd had a little sister stuck in a tower. What were they serving at the party? Would Henrik and Artur get into another fight tonight?

How long until the king discovered she was missing?

Once pulled out of her thoughts, Nikolette was pulled into the wonder of the town around her. She was on a street. For the first time ever, she was walking down a street. There were store fronts lining either side. Through their windows Nikolette could glimpse all different types of wares, stuff she'd only gotten in small portions but now saw in bulk. One store boasted dresses in the display. Through another, she saw shelves and shelves of books. Was this where Markus got the adventure novels and romances he pretended to disapprove of but still presented her with from time to time? Another shop the window was empty, but when they got closer Nikolette saw racks of bread and pastries in the back. Her jaw dropped. She'd never imagined what a bakery looked like.

Spinning as she walked in an attempt to take it all in, Nikolette first thought it was beautiful. Everything was so open and accessible and near to one another. But then it also...was not. In the darkness of her night, Nikolette couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something reminded her of the old stuffed rabbit she'd had since she was a child. Everything else in the tower had been removed once it was no longer useful, or fixed as soon as it broke. There had simply been no room for anything else. The bunny was the only thing that had been allowed to remain even after ir had faded and drooped, so wrought with age and overuse it didn't even resemble itself anymore. Nikolette got that same feeling when she looked around her. It was incredibly disappointing. She scolded herself. Here she was, finally free, and she was critiquing. Isabelle would be chewing her out for her disrespect.

Like Dominic predicted, the cobbler was still awake, working late. A few heavy knocks on his door got the annoyed cobblers attention, and a quick explanation (and a look at the gold in Dominic's hand) saw them ushered inside. Nikolette sat on a bench as the cobbler measured her feet, then retrieved several pairs of sturdy boots. She hadn't realized how much consideration went into a pair of shoes, but for each pair of boots she slipped on the cobbler pressed at her toes and heal, finding where it pinched or squeezed or where there was too much extra room. Finally, they found a pair that fit just right. Nikolette walked around the store, testing the feel, marveling at her first ever pair of shoes, and how comfortable they were. Dominic paid the man and they were setting off back towards the docks when they saw the Night Guards arrive.

Dominic thrust his arm in front of Nikolette, forcing her to stop, and pulled her off the street until they were hiding in a narrow alleyway that smelled awful. He peered out and watched the four black robed men force their way up the gangway of the _Shining Blue_ , ignoring the protests of sailors. Nikolette's breath hitched.

' _No,'_ she thought. ' _I can't go back, I can't be put in that awful tower again.'_ And then another thought occurred to her. The king had decreed she never leave. She had broken his law. ' _If I go back, he could have me killed.'_ Ignoring Dominic to duck around and try and see the Night Guards, she caught a glimpse of one and the long sword he carried. She realized with a start they'd probably just kill her right there and then. She looked a Dominic. He was montioning for her to stay calm, to not move. But panic had seized her. She wasn't- she couldn't let them catch her. And so she did the only thing she could think to do. She turned and ran.

She didn't think she could hear anyone following her, but she was oblivious as she hurtled through the streets of town and away from the pier. Behind her the sun was starting to rise, bathing the town in a new, warm, light. But still she ran. She ran and ran until she'd left the town behind and crossed an open field. She could see trees up ahead, the beginnings of a forest. She could hide in a forest. Forests meant shelter; they meant cover. How many of her books had seen its heroes escaping to a hidden campsite or losing their enemy in the thick underbrush of foliage? She wasn't thinking clearly; she just knew she had to get away, far away.

She felt no relief when she entered the forest. She just kept running. There was no path so her pace considerably slowed as she pushed her way through. She duck under low hanging branches an scrambled over rocks and and fallen trees when necessary. The forest floor was so thick with fallen leaves she could barely hear them crunch beneath her boots, but the snapping of twigs and branches was so loud it kept propelling her forward.

Nikolette had no idea how long she'd run. Eventually she became aware of how badly her feet hurt, how badly her body ached. She slowed but kept walking; then she walked until she collapsed. The sound of her own wild, erratic breathing and her pulsing heartbeat was so loud it drowned her own thoughts. She dragged herself to a tree that had been so long overturned moss had almost completely encompassed it; for good measure she dragged herself up and over it so that she had one more barrier between herself and her past.

She sat there for a long time, just trying to regain control of her mind and body. Her panic had subsided to be replaced by exhaustion. When she could finally think a little she wondered in amazement at what she'd just done. She'd ran. Her! She'd never had more than a few square feet in her life to run around in, and then she'd run what must have been miles. Sweat poured down her face and she tasted it on her lip. It tasted like freedom. For a minute she laughed at her good fortune.

Her laughter quickly faded though as she realized what exactly that meant. She had no food or water. No supplies. Automatically, her hand flew to her wrist, pushing back the sleeve to feel the cuff. It was still there. In her pocket, she could her mother's necklace still there too. But everything else she'd brought with her was in a sack on board the Shining Blue. Scratch that- the Night Guards had probably found them. She was unbelievably grateful for her new boots; her feet would have been irreparably torn and bloodied if she'd tried to make the journey on her own. But that's all she had now. A good pair of boots, the clothes on her back, and two bits of jewelry. Not exactly the key tools to survival.

She'd looked up but found the canopy of trees so thick she couldn't see through it. But judging by the amount of light that filtered through the leaves, she thought it might be getting close to midday. Which meant she'd stumbled and burst her way through the forest in a reckless panic nearly all morning. Would she be able to make her way back? Were they tracking her, even now? She sagged into log. She didn't know where she was. She'd run blindly away and now she had no idea what to do.

Strangely, comfortingly, her next thoughts came in the form of Markus's voice. 'Focus.' he said. "Breathe. Stop rushing to find a solution and first take the time to comprehend the problem. What do you need to know? What do you need to do?' It had been the advice he'd give her whenever she got particularly frustrated over a math problem.

She breathed deeply until she felt the last drags of panic get pushed to the back of her mind. What did she need to know? Where she was; who, if anyone, was following her; how to survive. What did she need to do? She needed to find some food and water; she needed a place to hide. What could she do right now? She thought a moment. And she remembered years of studying; biology books and nature studies, survival stories and adventure novels. She knew she could find berries and mushrooms, probably some nuts and roots. She could remember identifying them in her textbook for Markus one lesson; like all his lessons it'd been drilled into her. She wasn't strong, but at least she was no stranger to hunger. She could look and look until she found some source of water- then she would keep walking. Who knew what was after her- so the best way to avoid detection was to keep moving. She had to come across someone or something eventually- she'd figure it out from there. Ignoring her protesting body, Nikolette forced herself up and forward. She wasn't going back. She was going to survive.

* * *

**_Maxell_ **

Maxell found for the first time that his status as the invisible prince would only get him so far when he was denied entrance to the dungeons. Despite his insistence that he needed to speak with General Andreas; the guards on duty were steadfast in their resolution that no one but the King and Crown Prince were given permission to speak with him. He'd turned away in a huff, determined to find his father or Corbin and find an answer.

The events of the previous night were an unsolved puzzle in his mind, forcing him to go over the details again and again. He would never have thought he could cause so much trouble from just a simple observation. Only a few hours after he'd last seen Markus, he'd been sitting with Trina, entertaining his young step-mother while his father was busy. Trina and he had always gotten along well, and so he thought nothing of spending time with her when no one else would. When the king strolled up and casually asked if he'd seen Markus, Maxell honestly observed he hadn't returned from his business with the Navy man. That caught the king's attention. After getting Maxell to admit he didn't know where they'd gone or what do, he'd gone off again and Maxell had chalked it up to nothing.

He realized his mistake just a few hours later; when he took his leave of the winding down ball. It was well into the night; soon enough the sun would rise on another day. Despite knowing that reasonably everyone should be in bed by this time, Maxell decided to stop by the Markus' study in the king's quarters. He took the door leading to the outer hallway so as not to disturb his father, who's also disappeared. He stepped quietly as he walked through the first half that ran parallel to the king's room; out of habit he grabbed the handle and tugged on the door in the middle that led up to the Queen's Tower; and to his great shock it opened. Stopped dead in his tracks, Maxell just stared at the door as it swung open, displaying a set of curling stairs leading up the outer edge. His first instinct was to enter, to explore; but the sound of flesh hitting flesh stopped him. The sound came again, he realized, from Markus' study. Pushing himself against the wall, he crept closer until he heard his father's voice growl.

"Spare yourself some suffering, Markus. Tell me where she's escaped to."

Markus said nothing. But when another blow sounded, he heard the advisor grunt.

"I know you helped her escape, Markus. Do you really want to make this worse for yourself?"

"Escape," Markus finally spoke, "suggests she deserved her imprisonment. I merely set her free from your tyranny."

Maxell did his best to peak into the room; when he did he saw Markus on his knees, being held by two of the Night Guard. That they'd been called for meant serious business. Standing over him was the King, taunt with fury.

"You have chosen poorly in making me your enemy Markus. After all your years of loyalty, I should thought you'd know better. I will find that girl, I will drag her back here, and I will make you watch when I take her head for her disobedience. And then, I will make you pay for this betrayal." the King turned to the Night Guards. "Send every Night Guard available. Hell send the ones who aren't. Fan out; if she escaped by boat she won't have gotten far yet. Find her and make sure to kill anyone who could have seen or known about her. I want her back in this castle today."

Markus laughed; it was a taunting sound elevated by the blood he spat from his mouth. "Yes Your Majesty, I'm sure no one will notice the Crown's elite guards searching in the light of day for someone who doesn't exist. You're lies are about to unravel around you."

The King hit Markus again in response. The older advisor slumped to the side; even he couldn't handle the continuous blows.

"No one will get in the way of my plans, Markus. Not you and not that stupid little runt I should have drowned at birth."

Maxell wisely jumped to the other side of the door and pressed himself flat against the wall as the king stormed at. The Night Guards soon followed, dragging Markus between them. Hidden behind his door, Maxell could only peer through the crack at the four men leaving.

Unsurprisingly he hadn't been able to find his father or Markus the next day. It was only by listening to the gossip of other's was he finally able to learn from a guard gossiping to a servant that Markus had been imprisoned in the dungeon.

Of course simply going up and asking admittance hadn't worked. Neither had demanding, arguing, or negotiating. After what he'd seen last night, he knew better than to go ask the king for help, and the idea of approaching Corbin made him nervous. Corbin had always seemed practically grown when Maxell was younger and wanted to play- the older brother never had time or interest. It was in Amir and Royce he found preferable companions, and his relationship with his elder brother had remained one of mild civility.

Eventually he looked for less conventional means of entering, and found the guard's rotation schedule. At noon a guard named Finnick would take from the two on duty, and there was a 30 minute gap when he'd be alone before the next guard joined him. Maxell had met Finn once or twice briefly, and new enough of his character to know a good excuse and decent bribe would convince him to allow Maxell entrance. Finnick was one of the guards who figured one royal was much like another no matter if they were first or last in line for the throne, and thus didn't really see an issue when Maxell insisted he had to speak to Markus despite his father's wishes. He accepted the gold gladly and nodded Maxell through.

Maxell had to walk a little way to find Markus. The dungeon was largely unused, and Markus had been stuck in the furthest cell back. A shiver ran up Maxell's spine at the empty cells around him. Something about them gave him the sense of waiting; like the cells themselves were anticipating being filled.

"How could you not tell me?" Isabelle was whispering furiously. She was kneeled as if to slide the plate of food through the grate to Markus, but her knuckles gripped it so tightly they turned white. "How could you just take her away like that, without even letting me say goodbye?"

"It was for both your safeties, Isabelle. Don't act as if you haven't been interrogated. If they know you had nothing to do with it, they know your loyal and keep your job, and your head." Markus's voice responded from somewhere within the cell.

"I don't care about this job, Markus; I care about Letty, and thanks to you I'll never see her again." Isabelle's voice broke.

"She's free. Isn't that what we've always wanted for her?"

"At what cost did that freedom come? She didn't even make it onto the ship. She's lost out there, alone, and separate from everyone she has ever known. What good is giving her freedom if it's just going to result in her death?" Isabelle cried.

Maxell didn't look where he stepped and accidentally sent a stone clattering towards the cell. Isabelle shot up, staring at him for a second, before dropping into a deep curtsey.

"You're Highness."

Markus stood and came over to the cell bars, visibly relaxing when he saw Maxell standing there. Despite only having one night so far in the dungeon, he looked gaunt. Deep worry lines creased his face, forcing Maxell to wonder again just what had happened. "Your Highness," he greeted, "I'm surprised to see you."

"I had to sneak in." Maxell explained. "My father says you're being imprisoned for treason, but he won't let anyone come to see you." His gaze drifted to the servant between them.

"Unsurprising, of course. You may go, Isabelle. Thank you for delivering the food."

Isabells _humph_ showed her clear annoyance at the dismissal, but nevertheless she shoved turned to him, inclining her head in mock respect. "As you wish, General Andreas." To punctuate her annoyance, she used her foot rather than bending down to push the tray the rest of the way through the grate a little too harshly, spilling broth from the bowl. She bowed her head respectfully at Maxell as she rushed past.

Markus sighed. Maxell came over to stand directly in front of the cell and cringed. The cell was dark, dingy, and smelled like piss. A thin layer of hay scattered on the floor served as carpet, insulation, and bedding; one corner was suspiciously matted down, though he couldn't tell whether or not that was due to the leak _drip drop_ -ing through the ceiling. Markus at first appeared unbound, but Maxell soon realized one of his feet was chained to the wall. He had just enough length to pace the length of his cell. He was still wearing the clothes from the party the night before, but now they were crusted with mud and sand. He seemed tired, and it was the only time Maxell had seen him not looking quite so formidable.

"What happened?" was the first question Maxell asked. Even as he asked it, he knew it wasn't the right question. "I mean, what did you do? Who is the girl that escaped, and why would you help her? And why is my father so obsessed with getting her back and why doesn't he want people to see her?"

For his credit, Markus' initial confusion was temporary and faded quickly. "You heard us in the study that night."

"I came to find you," Maxell explained, "I was hoping once your business had concluded I could meet the Captain you spoke of. Instead I saw my father…" he wasn't sure how to end that. Arguing with him? Threatening him? Torturing him? He elected to ignore it all together. "Why was he so angry?"

"To answer your first and last questions together: I released a girl your father has held prisoner for many years. He sees her as a threat to his reign, so he wanted to keep her silent and hidden. But she had done nothing wrong, and I couldn't watch her be kept captive any longer."

"If she really has been held captive for years, why don't I know about her. Why doesn't anyone know about a mysterious prisoner kept in isolation?"

"She wasn't kept in the dungeons like a normal prisoner. She has spent her whole life locked away, in the Queen's Tower."

Confusion, then understanding, dawned on Maxell. "That's why you cared so much about the rumors. It had nothing to with my father's reputation, or protecting my family. You were making sure no one talked so no one would find her."

"It had everything to do with protecting your family; you haven't been told the whole truth."

"Clearly not, since even you've been lying to me all these years." Maxell said.

"I had to," Markus argued. "My first priority was protecting Nikolette. The king has made it very clear he'll have her killed as soon as anyone who shouldn't know about her discovers her."

"Why is that so important? How it that even possible, that no one knows she's up there? What about her family, her parents? Why hasn't anyone come looking for her?"

Markus sighed. "No one has come looking, because excepting a select few, no one knows she exists. She's been kept in that tower since birth."

Maxell's jaw dropped. "My father wouldn't do that to a baby. He isn't the kindest man in the world, but he'd never someone up for their whole life without reason.

"Oh but he does have a reason and he think's it's a good one. Because what you and I both know is more than anything in the world- your father is driven. He wants what he sees is owed to him, and he's willing to get it by any means."

"What do you mean?"

"There is a belief, among some devouts in the Church of -. ' _The seventh son of the seventh son, will heal the land; will join the people; will cure the darkness and bring forth light evermore.'_ It's part of an ancient prophecy, so old it was almost forgotten. But when your father discovered it in his youth, he became convinced he was the key to fulfilling the prophecy. He scammed his way to the throne; he forced Queen Eva to have child after child, even knowing it made her weak. When she became to ill to have bare again, he wanted the last son she promised him. He's obsessed with fulfilling the prophecy and will do so by any means."

"But what does that have to do with locking up a girl her whole life?"

Markus regarded him for a moment, and Maxell had the distinct sensation of being judged. Whatever Markus saw, he must have deemed him worthy, because he continued his tale in a low, even voice.

"Queen Shance didn't die in childbirth. And she didn't give birth to a stillborn son. She gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl. And the king was so angered by it he strangled Shanice and ordered the baby to be killed. But a priest brought in to witness the event insisted she be spared. She was innocent, unlike her lying, trickster mother. To kill her would be to damn the king's soul."

"You don't mean-," the pieces began to fall into place for Maxell. "You can't be saying-"

"The girl who escaped last night, who has spent her whole life locked in that tower under penalty of death, is the king's daughter, and should rightfully be Her Royal Highness, Princess Nikolette of Ataria.


	8. Maxell IV/ Ryder IV

**_Maxell_ **

"I just can't believe my father would lock up his own daughter." Maxell said. He'd sat on the cold ground facing Markus's cell. He knew time was quickly running out for him to get out before the next guard arrived, but he'd been so stunned by the news he couldn't move. "And that he'd lie to us about it. My brothers and I have a sister who has lived in the same castle as us for the past seventeen years and we didn't even know it."

"Technically, she's your half sister, it's closer to seventeen years and three months, and Prince Corbin is well aware of her existence."

Maxell's head shot up. "Corbin knew? All this time?"

"He's known for a long time, yes. I admit I've had difficulty pinning down the Crown Prince's motivation. He argues with the King more often than not but he's yet to outright disobey him in anyway. As far as Nikolette goes, he seems to regard her in the same way as the king- a nuisance to be hidden."

"What about Amir? Royce?"

"Both very much oblivious to her existence. The king has only ever allowed those he can keep quiet or trusts not to tell anyone with the secret of her existence."

"Who else knows?"

"Besides us, the king, and prince? The priest who baptized her and her nurse, but they're both now dead. A doctor that comes to see her once a year; the maid who takes care of her, you've actually just met Isabelle; the captain I entrusted her to; and Shanice's brother who she was meant to be sent too. The Night Guards too, I suppose; but they're more weapon than man."

"A princess of the realm, and only ten people ever knew she exists." Maxell said in disbelief.

He might have sat longer in his puzzlement, but the distant chime of the quarter bell brought him out of his reverie. Aware he was running out of time, he quickly filed through his mind, searching for the right question to ask next.

"What will happen now? If my father is as dedicated as you've said to keeping her hidden, he won't just let her go."

"He attempted to retrieve her this morning when they realized she'd escaped. Luckily she was able to elude them, and escaped into the Dark Forest."

"Then she's as good as dead." Maxell shook his head. To finally be freed from a prison and run straight into a death trap seemed a cruel twist of irony.

"Not yet. She may have never been outside before, but she's a clever girl, and she's more capable than you might think. If anyone could survive it would be her." Markus said, a glimmer of pride twinkling in his eye and standing out against his otherwise gaunt face.

"So what then?"

"The king will need a hunter. Someone who can he can pay to retrieve her and keep mum about it."

"Half the hunters in town are trying to support starving families. The whole town is struggling." Maxell remembered from his conversation with Ryder a few days earlier.

"Observations like that is why it's a shame you don't have more interest in politics. He won't just look for any hunter though. He needs one who can survive the Dark Forest. And likely he'll take one without a family to tell anything to; someone he can offer a bribe that's sure to change everything. Most likely he'll find this person and send them out tonight. He won't want to lose any time, and he can't risk word spreading by enlisting multiple huntsmen."

Maxell was running out of time. "Maybe I can find out who my father hires."

"If you choose to do so, you must do it secretly. The king cannot know you know about any of this. But if you choose to do so, find and tell Isabelle. She and I will work out something to hinder him."

Maxell kidded slowly. "I have to go," he said quietly, "I'm still can't truly believe everything you've told me."

"Have Isabelle take you up to the Tower. See how your sister lived her life. Then you might believe the things I've told you today are true." Markus instructed. There was a strange gentleness in his voice. Maxell thought he might truly be sorry he'd lied to him.

"I thought you were the only one with the key?" Maxell asked, ruefully remembering how he hadn't explored the Tower when he'd found the door open.

"But ahh, young prince, we've established. Before today at least, I lied."

* * *

 

**_Ryder_ **

Ryder awoke to a pounding on his door. At first he thought he must be mistaken, since his little shed behind the Sunstar rarely, if ever received visitors. But the forceful knocking persisted relentlessly, forcing Ryder out of bed and to answer the door. He expected Talon or Magrit or her husband Fredrick. He didn't expect two hooded figures all dressed in black. He could barely make out their faces beneath the hoods, but he could make out the black on black crest embroidered on their chests. The symbol of the Night Guard.

Warily, Ryder leaned back. The elite secret service of the crown, the Night Guard operated under direct orders from the King and Crown Prince, and no one else. They were myths and legends, tales told to misbehaving children and whispered in corners of taverns when someone mysteriously disappeared.

"Ryder Hunter?" one of them asked. Ryder nodded. "Come with us."

"Can I ask why?" Ryder asked. The Night Guards were probably glaring at him, but Ryder planted his feet and refused to move. If they had come to kill him, they wouldn't have bothered knocking.

Eventually the two Guards looked at each other, seemingly accepting he wouldn't come without being forced or given some sort of explanation. "Your King and country require your service." One of them said finally. Apparently that vague answer was the best he was going to get. Bidding them to wait while he dressed, he closed the door long enough to throw on some clothes, strap his knife to his hip, and grab his quiver and bow. If the King wanted him, chances were it was to do the only thing he was good at. Though why the King would need a hunter was beyond him.

Opening the door again, Ryder found the Night Guard waiting with three horses. He mounted the one provided to him and followed the men as they took off at a trot. During the day the horses would have caused chaos in the busy town streets; here at night then went unnoticed and to Ryder's great surprise, silent. Ryder had the strange sensation of feeling like a ghost rider as the trio sped up to the castle.

They hadn't finished cleaning up from the ball the night before. Streamers, stray glasses, a lost shoe or glove; little pieces of evidence of the earlier revelries could be found in the damp grass or dusty corners that the maids hadn't gotten too quite yet. Instead of leading him through the main entrance, the Guards led Ryder around the East side. Ryder found himself looking over the castle to the Queen's Tower, rising in the West much higher than the rest of the building ever could. But there was no phantom girl leaning out the window, no flickering glow that could suggest a lamp lit somewhere within. In fact, the dark tower gave Ryder a distinct feeling of emptiness, lifelessness. He wondered how he could have ever imagined someone in there.

They dismounted in the East courtyard. The Guards hadn't bothered to tie up their mounts so neither did Ryder; the animals in question didn't wander or even lower their heads to graze. Peering down, he saw the horses shoes were silvery in color, and they texture was strange, like molten metal that hadn't cooled yet.

 _Enchanted horseshoes._ Ryder thought, pulling stepping away. Magic was rare and expensive in Ataria. Some said the dark magic that flowed through the Forest of Atar overpowered any other sorts of magic. Before he had time to ponder on it more, the Night Guards were guiding him through a cellar door.

They descended down until they were in a tunnel. There were doors on both sides, some open, some shut tight, some with a window, some with triple locks. Looking through the ones he could, Ryder saw some wine cellars, some storage rooms, some spaces he couldn't figure out a use for. He was led past them all without a word from his companions. The tunnel twisted several times before they reached another staircase leading back up. The stairwell ended in a tiny circular landing and a door. The Guard in front knocked twice and waited. Ryder must not have been able to hear the return signal, because after a moment the Guard slid open the door.

Following him out, Ryder found himself exiting a column in the castle's throne room. The room was smaller than he imagined. Just large enough to accommodate a small audience, plus a raised dais where two thrones stood, and behind the thrones an alcove where several people could sit and observe. It was also darker than he expected. Light fixtures were on each wall and there was a hearth for a fire opposite the throne, but they were all unlit. Wide windows on the outer wall saved them from complete darkness; moonlight streamed in to illuminate the room just barely.

Three more Night Guards stood at attention throughout the room, but Ryder's attention landed on the man pacing on the dais. A nod from the closest Guard, and he turned to face Ryder. Ryder stiffened. He was looking directly at the King of Ataria.

Hesitantly, he bowed. Even told he was being recruited in service to the King, he didn't expect to meet him directly. Rising again, he noticed the King's appearance. He'd seen him from afar just days ago, and he looked fine. Now he looked agitated, obviously stressed over something. There was a dark look in his eye.

The King lowered himself into his throne. For the first time, Ryder noticed another figure standing behind the King's throne. The little light was just enough for Ryder to tell he was dressed in dark red instead of black.

"So, you're the Hunter who is skilled enough to navigate the Dark Forest successfully." The King said by way of greeting.

"I am, Your Majesty." Ryder wasn't sure if he should bow his head or not. Were you supposed to look at royalty when you addressed them?

"I have a job for you, Hunter. And I find myself in a delicate situation. I need a man of your skills and reputation. But I also need someone I know will do the job and do it right." The King looked pointedly at Ryder. Ryder didn't know how to respond.

"Father, I still think is a bad idea. Look at him, we don't know him. We have no reason to trust him. Allow me to lead the Night Guard into the Dark Forest. I can find and dispose of the prisoner-" The king held up a hand to cut off his son. Prince Corbin visibly stiffened, angered at being silenced.

"The task I have for you is of utmost importance. In order to divulge its nature, I need assurance that you will complete it without hesitation or fault. Can you do that, Hunter? Can you swear to me you will complete this task?"

Ryder was smarter than to agree to a job without knowing what it was. What a king would want him for was so far beyond him, he couldn't even imagine the kind of horror he could be asked to commit. Especially something he wouldn't entrust to his eldest son, who if what rumors said were true, was as ruthless and bloodthirsty as they came.

"I'm not sure I can, Your Majesty." He answered honestly. "I was taught to never agree to a trade without seeing what I would get; I can't in good conscious agree to a deal where I don't even know what I will give."

The King's eyes narrowed darkly. Ryder tensed, instinct kicking in to run, though he wasn't sure where he could go. Before he could ponder on that longer, the King spoke again.

"As I said, the delicate nature of this assignment prevents me from revealing its details until I can be assured of your compliance. However, far be from me to ask you to compromise your principles. Since I cannot reveal the full nature of your bargain, I will show you mine. In exchange for your services, the Crown is prepared to pay you handsomely. My second son tells me you're a man without family or allegiance. I hope to remedy that. I'm in need of a new Royal Huntsman. The position pays well, and comes with a minor nobility rank. It's certainly not the most glamorous nobility rank, there's no lands or estates, but the position will allow you free rein of the land and a gateway into a higher society. It's more than most men could ever dream of rising to in their lifetime. I think you'll find it a more than fair reward for the task I intend to give you."

Ryder's eyes went wide. The Royal Huntsman- that position normally went to younger sons of minor lords. The last Huntsman had retired a decade ago, fat and happy on his earnings from the king. The job itself was always described simply- lead the royal hunting parties, train the princes to hunt and shoot, acquire any rare or elusive game the king desired. It was certainly something Ryder had never entertained the idea of… but the idea of it instantly appealed.

Not only would he have wealth and status, he'd have a connection to some of the most influential people in the kingdom. If he could befriend them, get them to listen, he could make them understand the dire situation the kingdom was really in, hidden behind the king's lavish parties, and convince them to make some real changes. He'd be able to move around with respect, rather than apprehension. No one would distrust him due to his father's past. He'd be in control.

A small part of him still nagged, reminded him that the king could ask for something terrible in return. But he shoved it aside. After all, the king could hardly promote a murderer to Royal Huntsman. Even a king had to be swayed by the opinions of those around him.

"Alright," he agreed, "I accept."

The King smiled. "Excellent.

Before he explained Ryder's task, he dismissed the Night Guard. "Before you ask," he explained, "they know the mission ahead of you. They are checking for spies. Recent events have informed me my trust isn't as well-placed as I thought."

"Good help is hard to find these days." Prince Corbin muttered sarcastically, reminding everyone he was there. He still didn't look pleased with the events unfolding.

"Never mind that, Corbin. Now, as I was saying," The King continued, "your mission. A prisoner has escaped the castle, aided by a treasonous member of my council. Fortunately, we were able to intercept him and learn of her escape. My Night Guard was able to locate and halt the ship she meant to leave on before it could leave port; but someone must have seen them coming and warned the prisoner. She'd fled before they could reach her. They tracked her as far as they could, but she has vanished into the Forest of Atar. You will navigate the forest; you will find the prisoner; and you will return her to the castle before anyone else discovers her."

Ryder processed the information quickly. "If she's in Dark Forest, there's a chance she's already dead. The Forest is treacherous to those who don't know the way, and the animals who roam it don't fear humans like normal beasts do."

"If that's the case, bring back the body. Let no one see her."

"May I ask who it is I'm hunting?"

"No, you may not." Prince Corbin answered before his father could. "You just need to do your job and bring her back."

The King sighed, and Ryder glanced warily between the two of them. "I mean no disrespect." he said. "It's just hard to hunt a prey when I don't know what that pray is . You say it's a woman; is she young, old? Fair or dark? Short or tall? People are rare within the forest but there are other riders who have made their way through. I need to know exactly what I'm looking for?"

The King and prince looked at each other for a moment, before coming to a sort of silent agreement. Sighing, the King retreated to his throne, Ryder following, and Corbin came forward to address him more directly.

"The girl you're hunting is seventeen, but she may appear younger. It's likely she won't get very far, she hasn't been out of captivity ev- in many years. I imagine you'll find she has very little strength or survival skills. We're told she has pale skin and dark hair."

"You're escaped prisoner is a seventeen year old girl? That's practically a child- how could she be a threat? What could she have done?" Ryder asked before thinking.

Corbin glared again, but now the King interrupted. "What she has done is of no importance to you; she is a prisoner and an enemy to the crown. But she holds invaluable information. Should she be allowed to leave Ataria, or pass her information on to any others, the consequences could be most dire for us. As you may have heard, Queen Catrina is with child at long last. I have big plans for the future of my children and my kingdom; now more than ever I cannot allow anything to threaten that. The girl will tell you whatever she can to make you pity her or let her go; you must ignore her lies and bring her back forthwith, without anyone discovering your mission or your target. Do you understand all this, Ryder Hunter?"

Ryder understood. He almost pitied the King. It was those whose power was most fragile that saw threats in the least likely places. Ryder was sure this girl, whoever she was, was barely more than a common criminal. The information she held surely couldn't be too damaging. So he nodded, accepting the task.

"Good. You leave at first light."


	9. Ryder V/Maxell V

_ Ryder _

            Ryder was taken back underground and led around again until they reached an armory. He had hoped to go back to the Sunstar, collect his personal things and tell Magrit where he was going. But he had admitted there was nothing there that was absolutely necessary to his completion of the task he’d been given, so the King had insisted he receive new weapons and supplies and head out as soon as possible. The Guards that had apparently been assigned as his escort weren’t terribly good company, but they silently helped him find a new sword that would work. A few more trips took them to a supply room of balms and medicines, the kitchen pantry, and the stables. The horses that brought them had either made their way there or been retrieved; they acted so well behaved and unlike other horses he really couldn’t tell. His had been unsaddled and brushed down. With a few hours left until daybreak, they weren’t ready to reload him just yet, but they stored the supplies of food and medicine in the stall with him. One of the Guards pointed Ryder up to a loft, and instructed him to rest there until it was time to go. His instructions included the fact he wasn’t to make any noise and draw any attention- stable boys had been instructed not to go up there that night but they didn’t want to take any chances. Even as Ryder did as he was bade and settled into the loft to catch a few hours of sleep- the thought unsettled him. He thought about how they’d snuck around before. He wondered if the supplies they’d taken would be reported as stolen. Surely there was some system in place that allowed the King’s elite squad to operate without disturbing the rest of the castle. How valuable was the Night Guard’s secrecy that they were forced to act as ghosts in the castle? 

            These unwanted thoughts led Ryder to a restless night as he pondered his situation and the task before him. Set out on a quest while telling nothing to anyone. Retrieve the girl and return her to the king’s captivity. Reap the rewards and gain fame, wealth, and status.

            Great, Sounds easy enough.

            Ryder slept uneasily until the Guard returned to wake him just as the sun started to appear on the horizon. Quickly they loaded up his supplies onto the horse. Ryder checked and rechecked his knife strapped to his hip and his bow and quiver full of arrows. When they set out, the sun was only just visible above the horizon. The castle and town were still asleep. The birdsongs and wind through the gutters were the only sound that could be heard. Ryder and his two companions rode quickly.

            They rode westward down the hill so that they kept the water to their right. They entered town through the harbor, slowing down so Ryder could take note of the  _ Shining Blue.  _ The decks of the ship seemed abandoned; likely the sailors were being held for questioning about the prisoner’s whereabouts. The dock where it was stationed had been roped off for the time being. From there they followed the path they’d figured the girl had taken, through the town and further south. Along the way, Ryder took note of the distance, and the speed that would be required to cover it without being seen. Either this girl had been very fast, or very lucky. To the east the normal woods stood inviting and easy, but Ryder could tell from the path of crushed plants and broken twigs she’d bolted straight south, to the Dark Forest. She’ had probably meant to go east, but in her panic lost her sense of direction. The Dark Forest started out like any other on it’s edges- she could be miles deep before she realized how dangerous a predicament she was in. 

            They came up to the forest’s edge, and Ryder was unsurprised to find thick foliage starting there. Even with a day’s head start, the girl would hardly get very far without proper means of cutting through some of it. Even if she could, she’d have to look for animal paths and chance spaces, which would result in her winding her way around and not getting very far. He dismounted and found where the path entered the forest. 

            Shallow imprints; she was running with light steps. The distance between steps was longer than a normal stride; she was moving fast and trying to cover distance. Looking closer at the nearest tree revealed several small branches had broken off; she’d barreled through. That meant increased chances she’d cut of hurt herself in her run and might slow down to care for it or avoid more collisions.  Looking back down to the ground to find no dirt had gotten swept forward into the footprints; she was wearing pants instead of a dress. Taking a few steps forward, he was a few feet into the forest before he found another broken branch. Examining it, Ryder smiled. She was definitely just barreling straight through, which meant she had no plan and would likely be out of energy soon. He looked back to find the two Night Guards still standing at the forest edge. For the first time he noticed them fidgeting, and got the feeling that maybe under those hoods they were less menacing and more uncomfortable with their current situation. After all, the sun was getting higher in the sky, and Nights Guards were supposedly never seen in the daylight. Ryder walked back to grab his horse’s lead. 

            “The tracks are here, she wasn’t covering her path she was just trying to get as far away as possible. Could be she knew you wouldn’t follow her here, or more likely she was blinded by panic and just trying to cover distance. Either way, it shouldn’t take me too long to find her. You can tell the king I’ll be back with her soon.”

            “Remember the assignment. You’re to bring her back without anyone ever knowing about her existence” one of them said.

            “I am capable of remembering basic instructions, actually.” Ryder replied. With a tug, he led the horse beyond the edge and into the forest, turning his back on the Guards. “Tell the king not to worry. She’ll be safe and locked away again with no one the wiser.”

            He didn’t hear an answer from either of them, and he didn’t bother turning around as he started making his way through the trees and straight for the heart of the Dark Forest.

* * *

 

_ Maxell _

            Maxell had a difficult time skulking around the kitchens for so long unnoticed, but it was the bet he could do when no one seemed to know where Isabelle was. The few people he’d asked had been confused about her placement in regular household staff, and unsure where he ended up. Her duties from before though, were a source of much gossip. She had apparently entered the kitchen every morning and taken it straight to Markus’ office, which she alone was responsible for cleaning. She must have a way to get to his because she’d emerge in the afternoon with clothing or bedding to be cleaned. However, rather than turn the laundry over to the laundresses in the washroom, she did it all herself in a private laundry. She returned in the evening to fetch dinner and once again take it to Markus’ study. Other than that, she’d rarely been seen or heard from except on rare days when she’d been instructed to complete other tasks. 

            The gossip wasn’t very difficult to follow. It was clear most everyone thought there was more to Isabelle and Markus’ relationship to justify his need for a private servant. But no one dared say anything more; Markus’ influence ran deep.

            Maxell finally saw Isabelle entering with a group of chambermaids and breaking off towards the door leading to the kitchen gardens. Maxell scurried the long way out of the kitchen and down the hall to the servants’ entrance, running back to find her sitting by herself on a bench.

            “Isabelle?” he called. She looked up, surprise drawn all over he features. 

            “Your Highness,” she said, and rose to curtsy but Maxell stepped forward to stop her.

            “Please, don’t bother with that. I’m here because Markus sent me to find you.”

            Hesitantly, Isabelle sat back down. She pulled thoughtfully at the collar of her dress, regarding the prince.

            “And what does Markus want you to find me for?” she asked.

            “May I sit?” Isabelle nodded and scooted over to make room. Maxell sat beside her. He hesitated a minute, but finally forced himself to say the words. “Markus told me about Nikolette.”

            Isabelle’s eyes widened in disbelief. For a minute she said nothing, just stared at the prince as if trying to predict his next move. Under her gaze Maxell forced himself to keep from fidgeting uncomfortably. She was only a few years older than him but already had a maternal air that made her seem older and wiser.

            “So,” she finally said, “Now you know. What do you want me for?”

            “Markus said to ask you to show me the tower. To show me the proof that she lived there.” 

            “You don’t believe your mentor?”

            “I...don’t know what I believe. I don’t believe Markus would lie. But I don’t believe my father could do such a thing.” 

            Isabelle’s snort of derision caught Maxell off guard. She rolled her eyes away from Maxell and to the distance, looking out toward the sea. “You wouldn’t believe half the things the king is capable of.”

            “Please, Isabelle. Markus said you could enter the Tower and show me. I have to see for myself.”

            Isabelle gave a hefty sigh, and the weight of it made Maxell feel like he might also get dragged beneath what troubled her. But nevertheless she nodded and rose, beckoning Maxell to follow her. He did so at a distance, so no one who passed them in the palace would think it strange to see a servant and a prince walking together.

            Isabelle took the familiar route towards the king’s chambers, entering the side hallway just in front of it. Maxell checked to be sure no one else was in that corridor before following her through. Isabelle stood waiting at the tower door. Maxell looked behind him, where a door on the opposite wall led into the king’s parlor. 

            “Did my father ever walk past here?”

            Isabelle shook her head. “He pretended she didn’t exist. It was part of my job to report to him any incidents in which she could have been discovered. He only ever acknowledged her when he wanted her punished.” From her pocket, Isabelle drew out a gray key. He noticed the color first only because the one Markus had shown him before was gold.

            Isabelle caught him looking at the key. “The royal locksmiths know they aren’t supposed to copy any gold keys without the king’s authority. Markus had to travel to a village three miles away to find a smith who wouldn’t know about that law and would make us a replica.”

            She unlocked the door and gestured for him to enter first, before following and relocking the door behind them. “We could never be too careful. You never knew who might walk by and try their luck.” It was dark in the tower, save for a few slits in the wall letting in sunlight, but Isabelle expertly led the way up the stairs winding the wall. Maxell kept a hand against the stone for balance; Isabelle had no need. The stairs lead up into a stone ceiling, seemingly going nowhere. It wasn’t until Isabelle grabbed and twisted the latch that Maxell could see the trap door. She pushed it up and continued up the stairs and into the tower room.

            Maxell had to duck a little to get through, but when he did he stared in wonder at the tower. 

            All these years he’d imagined floors thick with dust, walls covered in shadows, maybe the remains of his mother’s abandoned art supplies or Shanice’s vanity. The room would be packed in crates stacked against a wall; maybe there’d be a broken mirror or two that was the reason for the glow or shadows people thought they saw. He supposed he hadn’t had time to rework his expectations in his mind, because this room was anything but.

It was brightly lit in the daytime, thanks to the four large windows at each cardinal point. Maxell realized looking out them just how high the tower really was. The expansive views they gave of the town, the water, the forest, and the castle made the room seem more spacious than it really was. It was also a cacophony of color, not at all gray and dark like he was expecting. Swatch of fabric in purple, blue, and orange hung from the rafters, bolted to walls to hide their gray stone. Examining one of the purple fabrics more closely Maxell realized it was the same fabric one of his suits was made of. One of the drapes was pulled back to reveal a wall covered in scratches. The room itself was clean of dust and dirt but could hardly be called tidy. There was the bed pushed against a wall, sheets twisted and falling to the ground. A desk sat between two windows in a disorganized mess of papers, empty inkwells, and abandoned art supplies. Pillows were scattered across the floor; clothes hung over wherever they could. The room itself felt like it carried the mark of its occupant; like this mess was distinctly individual. But what surprised him most of all was that everywhere- on the desk, stacked by the bed, on the shelves, on the floor- there were books.

“I kept telling her tidy up. I wasn’t able to get up to clean often this last week. Nikolette never cared much about the mess though.” Isabelle said from behind him. Maxell walked over to the desk and picked up a half-finished sketch. Turning he quickly matched the outline of a castle to the view from the North window. He put it down and picked up a bottle of perfume, recognizing the faint scent of hibiscus, which didn’t grow anywhere in Ataria. He walked over to a basket across the room and looked in it to find hand-stitched dolls and carved wooden toys. 

“She really lived here,” he muttered more to himself than Isabelle.

“She existed here.” Isabelle said. He looked up at her. Isabelle gestured to the room with her hands. “How much living can a girl really do in these walls? It’s beautiful now, but can you imagine never being able to leave? I only had to be in here half the day and it drove me crazy.”

“How did she get all this?” he asked. Isabelle shrugged. 

“Most of its gifts from Markus. He arranged for her to have new clothes when necessary. He bought her things to entertain herself. He’d borrow books from the castle library to teach her with, and buy copies of anything she liked for her to have. He and Ariene arranged for comforts; the drapes, and pillows and such. I’m not sure how they managed that but now the tailor gives us any extra bolts of fabric without questions. I use them to make anything she needs.”

“You mean to say you do everything for her? Maid, tailor, attendant, companion? And who’s Ariene?”

“I fulfilled every task needed to care for Nikolette save tutor- that was Markus’s role. Ariene was Nikolette’s nurse; she cared for her for the first eight years of her life. She was killed after she was caught attempting to free Nikolette and flee.” Isabelle’s voice held a practiced non-emotion Maxell recognized. He looked to find her staring at the wall of scratches.

He walked over, noticing upon a closer look they weren’t random scratches, but tallies, all done in tiny, orderly, groups. Hundreds of them lined the wall, until they came to an abrupt and unfinished stop.

“One for every day she was here.” Isabelle explained. “Over seventeen years worth of tallies. Two days now. Two whole days she been alive but not added a tally to this wall.” With a sigh, Isabelle pulled the fabric from where it hung and let it fall back to cover the wall.

“All this time- she had routines, interests, hobbies, lessons. It was all going on right above our heads and we never realized she was even here.”

“What can I say, Your Highness. People have a tendency to only see what they’re told to look for.”

And they’d been told Shanice’s child had died before it even lived. The weight of the guilt he felt pressed into Maxell’s chest.

“It must have been awful for you and Markus, to have to keep this secret.”

Isabelle shrugged. “Not nearly as awful as it was for her.”

  
  



End file.
